Paint It Black by Michelle Perry Page A

hard as I could into his groin.
    Grady screamed and fell to the floor, curling into a fetal position. I stood over him, gasping for breath and massaging my burning neck.
    “Mama!”
    I glanced up to see Abby standing at the top of the stairs. Grady scuttled back and leaned against the wall.
    “Get in your room,” I said. “I’m coming.”
    “But, Daddy—”
    “Daddy’s fine,” Grady rasped. “I just fell.”
    “Abby, go!” I said in my don’t-mess-with-Mom voice.
    She turned and ran back to her room.
    “Necie—” Grady said, and I whirled.
    Angry tears stung my eyes. I pointed at him. “Stay the fuck away from me.”
    Without waiting on a reply, I ran upstairs to check on my daughter.
    I paused outside Abby’s bedroom door, trying to compose my face into some mask of neutrality, but inside I raged. How dare he treat me that way? He wasn’t even drunk!
    I plastered on a smile and twisted the knob. Abby had stripped to her underpants. She stood at the foot of her bed, gazing at me with huge, sad eyes. My smile faltered, and I hurried across the room to take her in my arms. As I held her small, warm body close, I knew that something had to give. Things between her father and I had grown steadily worse. I couldn’t live like this. I couldn’t let her live like this.
    “Is Daddy okay?” she asked in a small, quiet voice.
    “Yeah, baby. He’s okay. Let’s get you in the tub.”
    She moved toward the adjoining bathroom. I glanced at her bedroom door, then doubled back to lock it behind us. I felt a little annoyed with myself for the apprehension I felt, but I could no longer predict what Grady might do.
    After shampooing Abby’s hair, I left her to do the rest herself. I thought about packing our clothes and leaving, but where was I supposed to go, a motel? Besides, why should I be the one to leave? Let Grady go home to his mother. She’d welcome him with open arms.
    I pressed my ear to her bedroom door, but heard nothing in the hall beyond. I eased open the door and peered into the hallway. No Grady jumping from the shadows. Feeling stupid, I hurried down the hall to our bedroom.
    He probably was sitting in some bar somewhere.
    My heart thudded while I snatched some clothes from my dresser and closet. This was how far we’d come. I couldn’t believe I actually feared Grady, but here I was, worrying about the gun in my purse downstairs.
    Back in Abby’s room, I locked her door behind me again and sat on her bed until she came out of the bathroom. I thought about telling her not to open the door if Grady knocked, but how could I tell her that?
    I popped in one of her favorite movies and kissed her cheek.
    “Hey, babe. I’m going to take a shower and then I’ll come watch with you, okay?”
    She nodded, and made no comment when I picked up my shirt and shorts and headed to her bathroom. I washed myself with bubblegum-scented soap and thought about my next move. Tomorrow, after I took Abby to school, I’d tell Grady to pack his things. Tomorrow I’d tell him I wanted a divorce.
    A divorce.
    I stood under the pulsing hot spray and wondered why the thought didn’t upset me as it once had. I wanted to care. I wanted to feel something, but it was like I was hollow inside. Dead. My only concern was how to explain it to Abby. Whatever Grady and I did or said to each other, I didn’t want her caught in the cross fire.
    I toweled my hair dry and dressed, then joined Abby beneath her Strawberry Shortcake comforter. She scooted over to make room for me, and I saw the questions in her eyes, but still she made no comment. I set the clock and cut off the television and lights. She was asleep in minutes, but rest proved more elusive for me.
    The next morning, I pulled on a pair of jeans and kept on the same shirt I’d slept in. Abby got out of bed without her customary protest and dressed quickly, as if she sensed my anxiety.
    When I opened her bedroom door, my heart skittered when I found Grady lying in the