Fear:

It’s cold. The pressure around your body increases. The water swallows you up. You’re sinking into the dark. You kick and thrash, attempting to keep your body afloat, but you keep dipping under the surface. ‘I should’ve just stayed away from the edge.’ There’s a random flashback to college, and how your friends couldn’t believe that you never learned how to swim. You thought; ‘what’s the point? I’ll never need to know how. I’ll just keep my ass out of the water.’  You chuckle inwardly; ‘I could use the knowledge now.’ You keep thrashing, but the water drags you down. Your body becomes lethargic. You can’t breathe. There’s no air, just water. You have one more burst of energy, of willpower. You try to fight the pain that’s building up in your lungs. The burning is overwhelming. You kick and reach, but alas, your clothes are too heavy and the water is too cold. You don’t know the movements that could bring you to what you yearn for: air. Such a simple task that you could have learned to save your life. Your body betrays you and you take a gulp of what you want to be air, but it is cold liquid that burns through your lungs like fire. You are drowning. Your vision starts to fade and you welcome the darkness, the oblivion, with a smile.  

Anger:

The slap that resounds off her skin is sickening. It is not the first time nor will it be the last. He continues to beat her. Smack after smack, thud after thud. He isn’t satisfied. His bloodlust cannot be satiated with the black and blue bruises forming on her swollen cheek and arms. He grabs the first thing he can think of to aid him in his quest - his belt. A smile dawns across his face as he slips the belt from its place around his hips. He draws back and cracks it against her forehead. The smell of copper is instant. The warm heaviness of blood trickles down her face. She hears the laughing, if that’s what you can even call it. The cackles reverberate off the bathroom walls. He enjoys himself. He always does. She’s in the fetal position, trying to cover her head, hoping, praying that he’ll stop before it’s too late. He keeps laughing, drawing his arm back farther. He puts all his weight into it this time. The blow deafens. She only hears a subtle ringing, but at least it’s replaced his asinine cackle. He repeats the stroke. The darkness opens its arms to her like a lover, a safe haven. But just before she sinks into oblivion, her last conscious thought to make the bastard pay is interrupted by his breath on her cheek and his voice in her good ear whispering, “It’s only because I love you.” 

by Victoria Heydt ‘10