Before The Rings Of Saturn

Mary looked up at the sky.  It was a beautiful day.  She imagined that the clouds formed a heart, but as she watched, the two sides pulled apart and went their separate ways.  She signed.  "Same way with life, I guess," she said to no one in particular.  Her frown melted into a smile when she looked into the stroller she was pushing.1

"I pray every day it wont be like that for you, Eva," she whispered into the infant's ear.  The baby smiled in her sleep and rolled over, making a cooing noise.  2

"Honey, I'm home," Mary mentally chastised herself for saying something so cheesy to her new husband.  She imagined him coming around the corner, smirking at her, and giving her a kiss.  When he didn't show, she set her keys down, picked up Eva, and headed to the living room. 3

As she rounded the corner, she saw her husband, little by little, passed out on the reclining chair in front of the T.V.  Sighing, she picked up his vodka bottles with one hand, balancing the baby in the other.  This was a careful process, as she had to be careful not to clink the bottles and wake Jim up (he had quite a temper when drunk.)  She mulled over in her mind what could have happened today that made Jim hit the bottles so early.  Trying her best to disregard it, she put the baby to bed and layed down herself.  4

It must have been hours later when she woke up because it was pitch black.  Fighting through the fog in her brain, she could hear someone screaming.  For a moment, Mary was sure she wouldn't be able to inhale. There was a slow, dull ache in the pit of her stomach as she realized it was Eva screaming.  As fast as her feet could carry her, she was in the baby's bedroom.5

Slowly, the room tinted itself red.  Shaking her head, Mary saw the real picture.  It was Jim, slumped over the cradle with his half-shattered bottle of Crown Royal, and Eva, screaming on her belly on the floor.  Silently, Mary bent to pick her up, but was blocked by Jim's foot stomping on her hand.  Wincing, Mary tried again.  This time, she was blocked by a blow to her head.  There was a flash of white-hot pain, then a thick line of blood down her forehead into her eyes.  Looking up, in slow motion, it seemed, she saw Jim holding a piece of wood broken off the cradle.  The end was jagged, and stained red.6

"This is the last time you ever leave this house," Jim said.  "Ever."  There was another flash of pain, and then everything went black.7

Mary woke up with the same groggy feeling in her head as she did...when?  She couldn't remember.  There was also a familiar screaming noise, but Mary didn't care.  The harder she fought to make everything clear, but the harder she fought, the more her head continued to cloud.  Finally, she let the darkness sink in.  The last thing she remembered was a baby crying, bleeding.  And a man, a big man, smashing a vodka bottle into a doorway.  "Doesn't matter," she thought, drifting into her dream world.8

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