It Never Ends
It Never Ends
One night it just got too much for me. My husband and I were arguing, as per usual, he kept shouting and screaming at me. Picking me up with ease and pushing back onto the kitchen floor, sending my head crashing onto the tiles. The only thing that stopped him from hurting me further that night was pretending to be unconscious. I held my breath and let my limbs go completely limp. I felt him pick me up by the waist, tapping the side of my face to see if I was alive still. I made no movements, desperate for him to leave me be. He let me drop back onto the floor with a satisfied grunt. The worthless pig left me there and made his way into the living room. I heard him throw his body on to our –sorry- his leather sofa and turn the television over to the football.
I left it a few minutes before opening my eyes. I was away from the door joining the kitchen to the living room, far enough away so that I couldn't be seen. I stood up, as quietly as I could, doing my best to make as little sound as possible. There was no point in me trying to be quiet in all honestly. The TV was so loud he wouldn't hear a dog barking if it was sat in front of him. Then it hit me. It was the perfect way to ensure that I would not be held back by him anymore. No more ‘walking into doors’ or ‘falling down the stairs’. My eyes fell down to my hands, discovering the fresh cuts from that night’s event. My face began to burn as the fire in the pit of my stomach boiled over. I felt my hand pick up his stake knife. I didn't even look behind me to search for it; it was as if I was watching myself making those movements. I lifted my hand with the knife behind my back so that he wouldn’t see it. There was no adrenaline racing through my veins. Then it happened.
The police found me curled up on the sofa the next morning, next to my husband’s silent corpse. The neighbours had complained about screaming that they heard last night. It sounded more like laughing to me, but then again. They weren’t there.
I was admitted into a psych ward not long after my court case. My lawyer, and family, claimed I was mentally unstable and pleaded insanity on my behalf. He’s still with me, causing me harm, but only mentally this time. Now I can handle it. I’m strong. But I can still hear the words he mutters to me when the nurses inject me with tranquilisers. I feel his breath on my ear, leaving goose-bumps on the back of my neck. His deep voice whispers to me.
“It never ends.”
I left it a few minutes before opening my eyes. I was away from the door joining the kitchen to the living room, far enough away so that I couldn't be seen. I stood up, as quietly as I could, doing my best to make as little sound as possible. There was no point in me trying to be quiet in all honestly. The TV was so loud he wouldn't hear a dog barking if it was sat in front of him. Then it hit me. It was the perfect way to ensure that I would not be held back by him anymore. No more ‘walking into doors’ or ‘falling down the stairs’. My eyes fell down to my hands, discovering the fresh cuts from that night’s event. My face began to burn as the fire in the pit of my stomach boiled over. I felt my hand pick up his stake knife. I didn't even look behind me to search for it; it was as if I was watching myself making those movements. I lifted my hand with the knife behind my back so that he wouldn’t see it. There was no adrenaline racing through my veins. Then it happened.
The police found me curled up on the sofa the next morning, next to my husband’s silent corpse. The neighbours had complained about screaming that they heard last night. It sounded more like laughing to me, but then again. They weren’t there.
I was admitted into a psych ward not long after my court case. My lawyer, and family, claimed I was mentally unstable and pleaded insanity on my behalf. He’s still with me, causing me harm, but only mentally this time. Now I can handle it. I’m strong. But I can still hear the words he mutters to me when the nurses inject me with tranquilisers. I feel his breath on my ear, leaving goose-bumps on the back of my neck. His deep voice whispers to me.
“It never ends.”