It is an hour's commute from home to work. We plan to move into an apartment next month—just another ten thousand. Pam really needs it, I mean, she’s starting kindergarten next year. Anyway, I hate this trailer. I also hate Dave. He’s ignorant of my work—my last raise was two months ago. I really love her though, I dream about leaving this place and having a normal life with her. Pam would also be there. And I think another baby is coming soon. It would be perfect. I turn the corner to the Burger King and walk in through the back. I walk towards the fries to put them in the oiler but drop the fries. I dash outside and see the Hummer truck I bought a week ago. Dave, he’s with her, they're kissing next to my truck. I swing at him. Blood covers his face and screams erupt.

I am driving across Seven Mile, and I don’t even care about my job anymore. I’m leaving her and taking Pam. I don’t need another one. I hate killing babies, but it’s the only option now. I park the truck on the curb. I open the trailer and start packing. I see Pam coloring on her pad. She looks up and asks, “When’s Momma coming home?”

“Momma’s lost. We’re gonna go on a little trip to find her, okay.” She looks confused and nods. I can’t deal with this right now. I enter her room and look at her picture. I snap back to reality after a thump on the door. She’s there, right when I am going to leave. She pushes the door open and starts bawling. I lock Pam in her room. She asks for another chance and that it is just a big misunderstanding. I stop myself from listening. She pushes me and screams that she needs me. “The baby, Pam, please, for them. Just for them,” she cries.

I know she’s talking about herself. It has been the same thing since middle school. She always flips the script on me, but she’s everything to me. I thought I was different. She never gives to me. She pleas that she’s everything to her. I shout back. I push back. I hit her. She runs to her room and slams the door. I can hear her weeping behind her pillow as I sit behind the door and cry with her. I feel horrible. She’s so beautiful when she’s angry. The more she puts me through, the more it makes me want to come back to her.

“Come in, I need you. Please, we’ll be fine. We’ll make up. Like we always do. I love you,” she asks. I think for a minute and as I get up to take Pam and leave, I turn back. I open the door to the bedroom and slam it shut. I love her more.