There she goes again.

Sitting in the corner of the couch so she can watch him bumble and stumble around in the kitchen.

She sits there in silence.

She lets the tears fall from her face to the soft material of the couch.

She does not move a muscle or make any sudden movements.

He might see her.

He might just come after her again.

Beat on her.

Call her names.

Spit on her.

Rape her.

Tell her that she is not worth a damn.

But this is the woman he told everyone in the church he would cherish, adore and take care of for the rest of her life.

She looks at him in the kitchen eating his food and grumbling at the way it has been prepared. She wants to shout at him. She wants to call him a pig. She wants to put on her shoes and run home. But the last time she ran home her dad called him to come get her and fix his problem in the correct way. He was told to train her to be the wife she is supposed to be.

She now realizes that the man in the kitchen is the copy of the man that raised her and beat her mother to death. She wants to scream for help. She cannot. She cannot find her own strength any more. She used to be so strong and beautiful. She thinks about all the debate club wins she has had. She thinks about all the track meets she ran in. She thinks about the guy she did not want because he did not want to party and drink. That guy didn't ask her out twice.

She jumps as she hears the dishes hit the sink and break. He tells her that he is going to take a bath and that the kitchen be cleaned before he gets out of the tub. She waits to move. She waits to hear the water spill out on the floor. Then she makes her move. She sweeps. She washes. She dries. She prepares his lunch for the next day. She sits back in the corner of the couch and listens to him sing. She wishes he drowns. She looks out the window and cries. Her tears are broken when she hears the floor creak. Her heart stops when she sees her three year old daughter has wet herself again.

She saw her daughter living the life she is now in. The light bulb comes on. She makes her move. She grabs the bag that has been packed in the closet for three months. She changes her daughter. She wipes tear tracks from her face. She offers him a beer while he is in the tub. He accepts. She makes the exchange in silence and locks the bathroom door as she leaves out.

There is a "sshhhhh baby" and "do you want to go for a ride?"

She grabs the bag and baby and turns the television on.

She opens the back door.

She leaves out the front door.

She makes it to the corner just as the bus is pulling up.

She does not look back.

They sing together.

They sing The Wheels on the Bus.