She Let Herself Go: Story in a Song, #2

Prologue

Kyland

YOU DON’T love me!

The scream stabbed into his brain, the accusation like glass shards, shredding as they moved along. It was the farthest thing from the truth—he adored her. Throughout their nearly twenty-three years together, he’d done everything in his power to make her happy. To keep her safe.

Unfortunately, it wasn’t enough. There wasn’t a danged thing he could have done to keep her safe from the silent killer invading her body.

And her mind.

Charm, Ky sighed her name, though it had a pleading tone to it. He hated days like these when a stranger inhabited his wife’s body. Unfortunately, those days had become the norm; the good days simply a pleasant surprise. Maybe it’s supposed to make me appreciate the good more.

Today was a particularly bad day, worse than most. But then every day for the past month had been bad.

And he knew it was only going to get worse.

Baby, he pleaded as he tried to grab her flailing arms so she didn’t deck him like she had last week. Ky had no idea his wife could pack such a punch, especially since she was so thin now, but he still had the remnants of that black eye.

Debbie, her nurse, rushed to the other side of the bed to help restrain the supernaturally strong woman. Never in his life could Ky have imagined Charmain being so violent, so incredibly angry. She’d always been such a meek and sweet person.

Charm was the first person their pastor would call whenever help was needed in any of the children’s ministries. His wife was the woman others looked to for help and advice with marital or parental difficulties. She led women’s Bible studies, hosted church potlucks, counseled the younger women having difficulties adjusting to marriage. A godly woman, was the term always applied to her.

And now... now, it was like she was demon possessed.

You know this is only going to get worse, Debbie gritted out as she put her weight on Charm’s legs. Ky nodded, unable to find his voice in that moment. Everything was just... so overwhelming.

The doctors had warned him about her condition, of the changes to her personality that would likely occur, said soon she wouldn’t even recognize her loved ones. Ky wondered if that would be better—to walk into the room and instead of death threats directed his way, to have a question of his identity on her lips.

The personality change was one reason Ky had told their friends to quit coming by, even the pastor. The last thing he wanted was for them to remember Charm like this—cursing, screaming, hate-filled. He wanted... no, he needed them to remember her like she was.

Charmain heaved her body then, trying to buck them off. Ky didn’t think she could possibly weigh more than ninety pounds, but she fought like the bulls he used to ride in college. Maybe even worse.

Ky grunted when she kneed him in the ribs and he put a little more of his weight on her. He was careful, afraid that he was going to break her emaciated frame, but Debbie wasn’t as gentle when she climbed atop Charm’s legs, pressed her weight onto her chest and stuck a needle in her arm.

He breathed a sigh of relief once the medication was injected. It wouldn’t take long for the sedative to calm his wife. Thanks to her credentials, Debbie had told him that she was able to get the good stuff, medicines strong enough to knock down one of those raging bulls Ky had been acquainted with.

He was so very thankful for Debbie, especially now that Charmain seemed to be heading downhill so quickly. Thankfully, their mostly useless insurance at least paid for in-home hospice, but that wouldn’t last much longer. Their coverage only allowed for ninety days and he didn’t want to think about what the future held.

The next step in Charmain’s care wasn’t covered at all.

Ky glanced at the younger woman who’d been living with them for almost three months. Debbie had been a godsend, taking over when he had to work or when he needed to take Lani to school, or to just spend some time with her, trying to help the ten-year-old cope with the loss of the mother she’d known.

The mother she’d adored.

Ky looked back down at his wife who was finally starting to calm down after the tranquilizer took effect. She was so very different now. Not just because of the screaming, cursing, fighting and violence that poured from her like a toxic venom, but she also looked like a completely different person.

He hardly recognized the wife he married within her.

Once vibrant, glowing with love that she poured out on everyone she came across, Charmain had most certainly fit her nickname. But now it was like looking at the complete reverse image of the woman he’d loved for two and a half decades.

It pained him to think it, but now... now she resembled a gruesome Halloween decoration. Emaciated body, sunken eyes, thinning, stringy hair, grayish skin. She looked like she was pushing a hundred years, instead of the forty-one she’d just turned. Ky was honestly shocked sometimes when he walked into their bedroom and saw her lying on the hospital bed.

Even though she was so different, he still loved Charmain. Sometimes, though, he worried that he was just in love with the memory of her. This new Charm was certainly hard to love by anyone’s standards.

And that thought always made him feel immensely guilty.

Ky carried a lot of guilt though. It ate at him like the cancer currently consuming his wife’s brain. The malignant tumor that chewed its way through her mind piece by piece, stole away the things that he’d so loved about his bride. And, like her cancer, that loss was incurable.

Glioblastoma the doctors called it. Fancy name for a fast-growing tumor that was going to take Charmain from him and Lani much earlier than what should have been. The specialists said she had maybe ten months left, but that was nine months ago. There was just a blink of time left before the cancer took her away.

What was left of her anyway.

Ky had spent a lot of time on his knees the past few months asking God not to take her, to give Charm the miraculous healing that the prayer chain at church had also been praying for since the diagnosis.

His wife had been such a faithful servant of Christ, the selfless Christian who always put others first, who gave the shirt and coat off her back, and who wore herself out trying to help. To do good.

Ky had plead, begged, bargained, and at times even threatened God in his bid to regain his wife’s health. A miracle was her only hope. His only hope. But God didn’t answer, and now it was too late.

And for that, Ky didn’t think he’d ever be able to forgive Him.

Tears Ky didn’t think he had left in him filled his eyes. It was so unfair, so completely wrong, that a young girl should lose her mother. That a husband who adored his wife would have to soon say goodbye to the only woman he was ever going to love. And he wasn’t done loving her. Not even close.

It was that thought that made him close his eyes and lean down to kiss his now peacefully sleeping wife. He imagined Charmain as she used to be—sparkling gray eyes, satiny peach-colored skin with a rose blush on her cheeks, a full-figure that he couldn’t keep his hands off of...

But most of all, he imagined that she was the woman who used to love him back.

+++

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Georgia

YOU’RE JUST jealous! Georgia laughed. I got it before you could and now you’re green with envy, just like this bear!" She held the little stuffed toy under the arm between her thumb and forefinger and wiggled it back and forth, taunting her friend.

Jan rolled her eyes. You can be a real jerk, you know that? she muttered as she hip-checked her. Georgia just laughed.

Ladies, Bethany interrupted them, act your age. And pass the crayons. Georgia pulled a box from the pile on her right and handed it to her friend across the table.

They were at the end of the line and their boxes for Operation Christmas Child were overflowing with toys and other goodies. Georgia eyed her box doubtfully; she didn’t think the lid was going to close and tried to press the contents down some. For now, she just had to get a rubber band around the whole thing, because when the boxes were delivered, volunteers would go through the contents to make sure everything was on the approved list.

As if reading her thoughts, Bethany held up a little rubber snake. I still don’t see why we can’t put a toy snake in the boxes. It’s kinda hard to find stuff for little boys.

Because in some countries snakes are considered evil, Cindy, the OCC coordinator, answered with a smile from the table where she was working.

"Snakes are evil," Jan replied, causing laughter to ripple through the group, along with nods of agreement.

Georgia tried to rearrange her box to make things fit better, but it didn’t help. So, she shrugged, balanced the lid on top, then put the rubber band around the whole thing.

If God wants a child to have everything I packed in this box, then He’ll make it fit, she told herself.

After they packed all the boxes they could before running out of items, the group moved into the church’s fellowship hall for refreshments. Everyone had brought something—mostly sweets—and Georgia sighed. Her diet wasn’t going too well, especially not with all the temptations put in front of her every time she walked into church.

You Baptists need to quit havin’ goodies every danged time we open the doors! she hollered to the group. They all laughed and shook their heads.

’Tis the Baptist way.

No one would show up if we didn’t have food.

If you don’t like to eat, then you should join the Methodists.

Says the Cookie Queen, Cindy teased. She waved her hand at the goody table. Pretty sure most of these were brought by you.

Georgia laughed; Cindy wasn’t lying. She’d gotten up before dawn to start baking for the OCC packing party, one of her favorite church days of the year.

Forcing herself to skip the desserts, Georgia moved to the drink table to pour some tea, which she took to a nearby table. Bethany and Jan quickly joined her, their plates loaded with mouth-watering treats. Georgia groaned then leaned over and snatched a raspberry thumb print cookie off Jan’s plate. Her friend swatted at her hand.

The calories still count even if they’re stolen, Jan told her. Georgia scrunched her mouth to the side and gave her the eye.

No, they don’t, Bethany corrected as she sunk her teeth into a cupcake. She chewed thoughtfully, like she was getting ready to impart great wisdom. She waved her cupcake.

Stolen food doesn’t count, if you eat it in the dark it doesn’t count, and if you have a diet soda, that cancels out all the calories you’re eatin’.

Georgia laughed and said I wish while Jan threw a candy that looked like a haystack at their friend. Bethany snatched it and took a bite.

Oh yeah, she said through a mouthful, food used in assault doesn’t count either.

The ladies sat and chatted for quite a while, joking and teasing, enjoying the afternoon. But then Georgia looked at her phone for the time.

Oh shoot, she said as she scooted her chair back and picked up her trash, I gotta go. Gotta hit the store on the way home. I’m planning on making lasagna for dinner and need a few things.

Bethany leaned back in her chair, tossed her gray-streaked brown hair over her shoulder, then crossed her arms over her chest as she cocked her head to the side.

Ya know y’all are making the rest of us look bad, don’t you? She shook her head. Bob’s getting frozen pizza for dinner. No way I’m cooking twice in one day.

Georgia laughed as she threw her cup and plate into the trash. Despite her resolve to diet, she’d caved in and eaten her own plateful of goodies. She turned and walked back to the table to get her purse.

"I don’t