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Rhonda believed that John was reconfirming his love for her when he bought her a new washing machine. This was after he fractured three of her ribs and her jawbone when she was eight months’ pregnant. That, she told herself, was the reason she never fought back. You can’t hit a man who loves you.

“If a man is beating your brains out,” Nett screamed at her, “you can’t love him, and he can’t love you!” Nett had known for a long time that John was beating Rhonda, but nothing she said would convince Rhonda to leave him.

“I’ve got three children by three different men,” Rhonda argued. “Where am I going to go? I have no money and no education. The only things I can do are sew and dance. Who’s going to want me?”

“When he’s finished with you, no one will want you!” Nett yelled at her. “You’ll be a stark raving lunatic!”

Nett was afraid, disgusted, and angry. Rhonda was tired and confused and beat up. Everyone asked her the same question: “Why do you stay with him?” Gary’s mother lived next door to Rhonda. She, too, asked her why she stayed. She could hear the beatings through the walls and said she was furious with her son for not helping Rhonda get away. Gary’s mother thought he should at least take his son away. All of Rhonda’s friends asked her why she stayed. They would listen to her story, offer her advice on what to do to John while he was sleeping, and insist that she leave him. But no one ever went so far as to offer her a place to stay if she did leave. Rhonda guessed it was because everyone was afraid of John. It was Grandma all over again.

Baby Nisa was the spitting image of her father. That was the only reason John’s mother started being nice to Rhonda. By the time the baby was six weeks old, she’d begun calling Rhonda her “daughter-in-law,” which was a whole lot better than “my grandbaby’s mother.” The birth of Nisa seemed to calm John down as well. He didn’t come home more frequently, but when he did, he was at least civil.

Things will get better when we move, Rhonda told herself. John was busy trying to find them a new apartment, which she attributed to his new improved attitude. Rhonda had her hands full watching the children and packing up all their belongings for the move. It seemed that she had finally convinced John that she was not fooling around on him, so Rhonda allowed herself to believe that things really could get better. When John came home and announced that he had found an apartment and that they could move in the following Saturday, Rhonda was definitely convinced that things were going to work out.

John did not come home the Friday night before the move. Nett agreed to watch the children while Rhonda finished packing. On Saturday, when the moving van had not shown up by late afternoon, Rhonda realized that she didn’t know the name of the moving company. Late afternoon turned into evening, and she still refused to believe what she knew was happening. The telephone had already been disconnected, so Rhonda walked to the pay phone at the corner and called Nett to bring the children back. When Nett arrived, she took one look at all the boxes that Rhonda had packed for the move and began to cry.

After Nett left, Rhonda went back to the pay phone at the corner, children in tow. She called the landlord at the new apartment, who informed her that “her husband” had never made the deposit on the apartment. The landlord had already rented the apartment to someone else.

Somewhere in the back of Rhonda’s mind, a voice kept saying, Breathe! Just keep breathing! Rhonda could feel her tired body going numb. Back at home, she fed the children and put them to bed. She laid baby Nisa on the mattress on the floor and was trying her best to keep breathing. It finally hit her: This is not going to work. Breathe! Just keep breathing! Rhonda found a box marked BATHROOM, and opened it. She retrieved all of the medications she could find. Phenobarbital. Nytol, Tylenol, aspirin, and even vitamins. She pulled out bottles that were so old she could no longer read the prescription