"It's dawn," she thought, covering her eyes carefully with her bruised arm. The muscles in her neck throbbed as her arm moved, she let out a moan. What seemed to be hours of agonizing pain finally succeeded in getting her arm up to her face. Her hand briefly brushed against her cheek as it settled over her eyes, causing another intense pain to spring up a single tear from the tattered remains of the left side of her face. "Surely not," she thought, disjointedly, "surely there can't be any tears left." She let out a strangled laugh. It was the laugh of a person on the edge of sanity, waiting to fall off. "Can't be more tears left in this battered body." Another laugh came, a kind of cawing sound. She swallowed with difficulty, her throat on fire. A night of screaming had done its work. "Be quiet," she thought violently, then cawed at the empty room, her laugh becoming more rough. "Be quiet, or we'll make you be quiet. Oh sure, you'll scream, for a while, then you'll be quiet, so very, very quiet." She giggled, the pain in her chest flaring. "How many broken rib's this time?" her mind asked, sarcastically. "Just a couple I think," she answered, "but it's all right, I have a whole bunch." Her laughter was harsh, rough, causing her pain. She moved, feeling her breast rub against the sheet. White pain this time, like taking a piece of sandpaper, and rubbing it violently over the nipple. "Nearly tore them off of you this time," her mind observed. "It's fine," she told her reality keeper, "Mike always did like breast. Chicken breasts, turkey breasts, woman's breasts...." Strangled laughter this time, as her body insisted she jump off sanity's cliff. Her mind kept refusing to go. "Yes, I guess being unable to distinguish among the three is quite common." "Happens to us all, age creeping up you know." Her laugh was turning into a harsh bark. "Lilla," her mother's voice said, invading her mind, "some men are only capable of falling in love with that, not you, but that." "Not breast's Mother," she said, weakly, to that memory, "it's much lower than that, they fall in love much lower." Another short bark tore at her throat. "Why not the mouth, they stick it in there too. Why don't they fall in love with the mouth? Or that other hole. That would be even better wouldn't it? They stick it up there, and immerse their thing in what they think you are." Another tear slipped out of her blackened eye. "That's it," her mind said, "don't just slip over the edge, jump. No other place to run to. You'll never be able to get supper ready tonight, so what happens when he gets home? Better insane than dead." "Is it?" she asked, aloud. "Madly death anyone?" she thought, suddenly, "it's tonight's special." She rocked on the bed with uncontrollable laughter, her whole body ripped with pain, tears coursing their way down her face. "Any woman who would stay likes it!" Jill's voice stated, vehemently, "there's nothing holding them there, so they must like it." "You're right Jill, she informed her friend, "I've never had such a good time." She laughed again, a cramp ceasing her leg, overshadowing her body of agony. She let out a howl. "Why would a woman stay with a man who beats her?" George's voice asked, very intellectually, "that is what I can't understand." "Because we like it," she answered, "didn't you just hear Jill. Just look at me, black and blue and boogying too." More laughter filled the room. "So, is there a hole he didn't force himself into?" "Well, he didn't try a nose job." "He was slamming his erection into your ear!" her mind yelled indignantly. "Just trying to fuck my brains out, some women like that." She let loose with a crying croak, it was as close to laughter that she could muster. "I'm sorry sir," the waiter apologized, "but it appears that your piece of meat still has brains in it." "That's quite all right," said her husband, "I'll fuck them out here." Strangled laughter filled the room as another cramp gripped her leg. "Well, you can feel your legs, her mind reasoned, "I guess he didn't break your spine, that's a good sign at least." "Oh it is. I shall thank him when he comes back. Oh darling, thank you for the beautiful roses! Oh darling, thank you for not breaking my spine!" "You need to jump," her mind insisted, "if you do not jump, you die! Insanity is the only place left to run." "Yes dear," her husband said, "you do love me madly don't you?" "Perhaps," voiced her reality keeper, "we have the wrong perspective. Perhaps what we need to do is review our bodily damage, starting small, and working our way up." "No, no, very nice of you to ask, but I'd rather help take insanity hill." A snort escaped her. "Wonder how many of our brave soldier boys we'll lose in this battle." "First," her mind carried on, "you are covered with bruises." "Black and blue are in this year, the elite of the elite are all wearing it, very chic," she retorted. "You are covered with scratches and cuts, all of which are bleeding." Accessorized with red stripes, very daring," she stated. "You have a very bad gash on the right leg, almost, I would say, to the bone. I'm sure you will find standing quite impossible," her mind observed. "Ha, Lilla's last stand at little big crazy!" she croaked out. "I would say that at least two ribs are broken." "No problem, Adam's got a spare." "Your rectum is bleeding heavily, considerable damage there I would say." "Just add another sanitary napkin to that blue time of the month. Ha! Red tide part deux," she cackled, as the pain enveloped her, no longer just many points of pain. Her whole body was pain. She was pain. That is what her existence, her being was, pain. Nothing else. "Your left arm is fractured at the very least, and I can't even guess about the ear, I definitely felt something give there." "Terribly barbaric, not even a 'may I intrude,' ha." "And the left side of your face dear, it simply isn't there." "Hey, at least it wasn't my good side," she cackled again, feeling the pain envelop her tighter, then loosen its grip a little. "We haven't even hit on all the torn muscles, and so, so much more. Jump dear," her mind advised. The pain was letting up, and she felt a little lighter. "You need a man who will take control," her mother's voice piped in, "your not very bright Lilla, I don't mean to be cruel, but it's true, you need someone who will handle things for you." "Your so right mother," she replied, "so hard being a carefree kid when you have to make decisions." "Someone," her mother continued, "who'll tell you right from wrong, because you don't always seem to know." "And I got him mother," she cackled, "he makes sure I know right from wrong, and that I will never forget it." She felt herself getting lighter, the pain was lessening. "I'm going into shock," she thought. "No dear," miss reality check stated, "you're bleeding to death, this is what it feels like." "Oh thank god," she exclaimed, "for a minute there I thought there was something terribly wrong with me." Her cackling laughter, though weak, filled the room. "Dear," her mind said, in that school marmish voice, "can you see it." "And the mighty Lilla stood posed to perish on the edge of sanity, with one mighty hop between her and nothing." She could see herself, on the edge of a cliff, posed as if to leap off, gazing down into a black void that went on forever, never bottoming out. "Jump dear," her mind begged, "it might not be to late. Jump." She felt herself getting lighter, as if she was floating on the bed, the pain was really just a throb to her now. "Shouldn't there be a tightrope across, so I could walk it, and let fate take its chance," she giggled at the thought. "Jump!" her mind demanded. She felt so light now, like she was floating above the bed, it was really not an unpleasant feeling.

It was then that the pain came back, suddenly, violently, like being hit with a sledgehammer. She coughed hard, blood flying out of her mouth, choking her. She continued to gag, coughing up more and more blood. "To late dear," miss reality said, then thought and reality left.