When Skies Are Gray
It was their car.
The taste of pennies was the first thing. A mouthful, sharp and metallic.
The fact that she was moving came next—the thing she was in. This container.
Sheila’s eyes were open, but she couldn’t see. She heard a motor, felt a gentle, rhythmic bumping.
She smelled gasoline.
A car. The trunk of a car.
BA-BUMP. BA-BUMP. BA-BUMP.
The rhythm was soothing. Hypnotic.
She felt fuzzy and tired, sinking again into the deep, dark water.
***
What is happening? Sheila’s mind reached out, groping—and found nothing.
Her hands were twisted and bound behind her; her knees and ankles cinched tight. She could barely move.
BA-BUMP. BA-BUMP.
Her mouth was filled with blood. She desperately wanted to spit it out, but her lips were sealed shut with leathery tape.
She swallowed hard and forced it down.
Teeth, her brain said.
You swallowed your teeth. Like pills.
She slid her tongue across her gums, searching, and found the raw spots where they had been broken.
An icy wave of panic washed over her. Her scream swelled but stayed trapped, escaping as a muffled noise.
BA-BUMP. BA-BUMP.
And she needed to throw up.
She told herself: You cannot do that.
You will choke.
Her mind raced, calculating.
You will die.
Focus.
***
Sheila receded into herself, concentrating on not vomiting.
On not panicking.
BA-BUMP. BA-BUMP.
On breathing.
She thought about being in labor with Chloe, scared by the pain. It felt like her back was breaking. She thought about the stuffed toy Roger brought to the hospital—a lamb, with a music box inside. Its head moved in a slow, mechanical circle while it played a tinny lullaby. She’d squeezed its woolly, soft body. She found comfort in the metallic clicking as she wound the little silver key.
You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine,
You make me happy
When skies are gray...
Now Chloe was almost three, and she loved that toy. It went everywhere with her.
Sheila thought about the lamb’s face. And Chloe’s.
You’ll never know, dear,
How much I love you...
That’s when Sheila realized she wasn’t simply remembering the tune.
BA-BUMP. BA-BUMP.
She could hear it.
***
She struggled closer, her body rigid as she strained to listen.
You are my sunshine,
My only sunshine...
There it was. She could imagine Chloe’s tiny fingers turning the key. Click, click, click.
Then she heard Roger’s muted voice, deep and low. Unmistakable. That was her husband—and Chloe’s laugh.
Her daughter was right there.
You make me happy
When skies are gray...
Her mind reeled.
It was their car.
Suddenly, she had a flash of memory: Roger’s face, ugly, twisted in rage. His fists. She remembered falling. He still wouldn’t stop. She remembered thinking this time felt different—like she meant nothing to him anymore. Like he just wanted her gone.
Chloe screaming—that was the last thing she remembered.
You’ll never know, dear,
How much I love you...
Sheila wept quietly.
BA-BUMP. BA-BUMP. BA-BUMP.
The highway disappeared beneath them, and she lay still, listening.
Please don’t take
My sunshine away.
This story was a writing competition entry. It took first place in my group for round 1.