Samantha Dudley

jimenezAn English major at West Los Angeles College, Samantha was born and raised in Culver City, and has been writing creatively since she was 12. Deaf since birth, she has always used writing as a stress reliever and coping mechanism. A fan of Anton Chekhov, she takes this writing principal of Chekhov’s to heart: "Audacity and Originality: Flee from the Stereotype.”

Other Work:


Broken

(299 words without title)

"Broken?” I half breathed out. “Broken? Baby you are not broken."

“I love you,” I told her.

She looked up at me with tears about to rupture. “Even though I'm broken?” She replied.

My heart swelled with hurt. “Broken?” I half breathed out. “Broken? Baby you are not broken.”

Tears escaped from her eyes and rolled down her cheeks.

“You snort when you laugh, but you're not broken.” I continued.

She half-smiled, finally a smile.

“I'll throw all this away.” I reassured her.

She wiped her tears away quickly and said, “I'm going to lie down.”

I nodded. She stood up from the ledge of the bathtub and raised her arms up. “Undress me?”

I agreed with a cracked smile and peeled off her thin shirt and unbuttoned her jeans. I, then, knelt down to slide then off. She unclasped her bra, saying nothing. I kissed her thighs as tears fell from my face. I toss her shoes aside and hurled her socks off. She gestured for me to take off her underwear.

“I—!” I began.

“Shhh, I know, baby,” she said.

She ran her fingers through my hair and kissed the top of my head. Then she walked to our bed and started to rearrange the pillows. I turned my attention to the damned negative pregnancy test inside the bathroom sink. I threw it in the trashcan and washed my hands. I walked to our bedroom doorframe and thought to myself, “Three miscarriages, two unsuccessful in-vitro procedures, and three negative pregnancy tests later…and she thinks she's broken.”

She lay naked in a fetal position with her back to me.

“You're so beautiful,” I said.

I saw her body quiver with tears. No sounds escape her body. Then she said, “Hold me.” “

Always.”

I spooned her from behind. We cried and kissed until we fell asleep.


Editor: LinckeN@WLAC.edu | West Los Angeles College | 9000 Overland Ave, Culver City CA 90230 | www.wlac.edu
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