Smack!
My head makes a sickening thud as it connects with the cold marble floor. Immediately, the area around my eye begins to burn as the familiar grasp of confusion takes hold. I never even heard him come home. He is usually so careful to avoid my face. Appearance is everything. I know from experience I should keep my mouth shut and allow him to work through whatever ridiculous scenario he has conjured in his head, but I can’t. This strange need to fight back courses through my veins like adrenaline—a pure impulse I can’t control. A dull throb beats at the back of my skull, and before I realize I’ve opened my mouth, words spill from my lips.
“What the hell?”
Surprise colors my face as I watch his expression morph into something sinister.
Staring into the blood-shot eyes of the monster I married, I try to mask the panic pulsing through my extremities. It doesn’t matter how hard I try to compose myself, tremors writhe through my body. It’s no secret my fear pleases him. Apparently, my mouth is stronger than my will to survive these days. The thought raises questions I am afraid to answer.
Is this really what it’s come to? Do I want Mark to finally kill me?
Mark’s boot connects with my rib cage, effectively ripping my attention back to the present.
“Did you really think I wouldn’t find out? You really are just an ignorant white-trash cunt. Why do I waste my time with you?” Spittle flies over the rage in his voice. I’ve never seen him this angry. This is uncharted territory and I’m not packed for the journey. Crippling fear has taken root in my chest and my nerves tingle as branches start to grow. My body feels feverish, sheen of moisture coats my skin and I find it difficult to breathe. In through your nose, out through your mouth. Looking into the depths of his unfocused eyes, I see the change. The man I married no longer resides within those walls. He thinks I’m ignorant, but I notice it now. His need, the addiction, has progressively gotten worse over the past year.
I stare at the man I once loved more than life itself and I feel nothing but devastating loss. My husband is dead.
My knight in shining armor.
I was just too blinded by the shiny armor to notice the shackles. At one time, I thought he was the most attractive man I’d ever met. His perfectly-styled sandy brown hair, trim athletic build, and light grey suit still reflect the image of a handsome man, but I know the truth. The cold, dark eyes staring back at me embody the monster he has become.
“What are you talking about? Find out what?” I plead, cringing when my voice cracks. I’ve given him exactly what he wants. I’m scared and he’s feeding on it.
“Listen here, you ungrateful little bitch,” he spits, violently throwing a finger in my face. “I let your language slide, but I am in no mood for you to play innocent with me.” He grits through clenched teeth. Mark expects women to be perfectly poised, beautiful, polite and most importantly, silent. At all times. He broke my right pinkie finger teaching me that lesson. Refined women do not use foul language.
“Mark, I promise you, I have no idea what’s going on.” My plea is the ultimate mistake. I willingly walked the green mile and Lucifer smiled. He reaches down and grabs a handful of my long blonde hair, twisting it brutally around his hand. He yanks me to my feet, refusing to let me go as my weakened body flails wildly. Searing pain shoots through my scalp causing my eyes to water. Rallying what spirit remains, I push the fear aside.
“Then let me slow down and spell it out for your white-trash brain. There was a man in my home yesterday! I know you fucked him. Did he make you scream?” His voice lowers and that terrifies me. His face is only a hair’s breadth from mine. The proximity has my stomach churning like the Sea of Galilee. Racking my brain, I quickly run through every moment of the previous day, desperate for answers. Then it dawns on me. He’s convinced himself that I slept with the delivery guy.
“The only men in this house yesterday were you and the delivery man. One you paid to deliver and set up your new pool table, dip shit.”
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
Where is self-preservation when I need it? I know all too well what he is capable of, but I’m both terrified and angry. Fear and indignation wage a bloody war within the walls of my chest. While my mind fights to unscramble the fight or flight signal, I realize part of me just wants to give up and let him kill me. Years with this man have taken a toll on both my mental and physical health. The strife is exhausting. I’m at the end of the metaphorical rope and I know letting go will bring the freedom I crave. But in the back of my mind, I know I’m stronger than that. I don’t deserve this, and I’ve been living in fear for far too long.
Clearly appalled by my outburst, he throws my already limp body into the steel refrigerator doors. The handle digs painfully into my back, taking away what breath I have left. Before I regain enough cognitive ability to react, the back of his hand connects with my cheek. His wedding ring tears through my lip, and I feel it in my soul. My skin burns, and I can feel warm blood start to trickle down my chin. I hear nothing but the ringing in my ears as determination rushes through me. Darting my eyes around the room, I look for nothing yet everything. My vision lands on the supple leather purse perched on the counter. Yes! My brain clears enough fog to remember the 9mm Manny gave me just this morning.
Manny’s convinced Mark will eventually kill me and thought I needed to be prepared. This was the deal we settled on. It was the only way to keep Manny away from Mark. No way am I going to let him ruin his life over me.
Survival instincts spark the fire inside me that died long ago. Get to that gun. Something tells me this may be my only choice this time. I glance over at my purse resting innocently on the kitchen counter, just three feet away. Might as well be a mile, but I have to try. That three feet separates me from my salvation. I lunge forward with everything I have, but he still has a death grip on my hair. The movement reignites the forgotten pain and I can feel clumps of hair being ripped from my scalp. Breathing through the pain, I stretch, managing to get my fingers around the strap. Forcefully, he shoves me to my knees. Hopelessness threatens to take over as I watch the contents of my purse spill out onto the floor.
He paces the floor in front of me like a rabid hyena before kicking his perfectly shined shoe into my ribs. Held up on all fours like a dog, my arms give out, no longer able to support the defeat filling my bones. A few more strategically placed kicks and I see white flashes behind my closed lids. Curling into the fetal position, I hold my breath, silently praying for him to end it quickly. His impeccably soft hands, a result of his aversion to manual labor, grip my arms tightly and I know they are going to bruise. He takes advantage of my surrender and straddles my placid form. His hands tighten on my neck like a wrench.
This is it.
This is how I die.
My attempts to claw his hands off me are futile. Each breath I take shallows and despair hinders all logical thought. My arms flail recklessly around me, searching for anything I can reach in a last-ditch effort to free myself.
That’s when I feel it.
Cold steel.
On the ground to my right is the gun. That cocksucker never even noticed it. I wrap my palm around the only lifeline I have left just as my vision starts to fade. Thrusting the weapon between our bodies, I think about the life he took from me. It’s judgement day, Mother Fucker. Painful memories take control of my trigger finger just as my world goes black.