Amy was no stranger to hard work. She worked 10-12 hours daily at the grocery store then rushed to college to study art. Being an artist was her dream, not ringing up groceries. The job brought money that paid her way and gave her hope. By the time she returned home, her husband was at work and she was tired. As far as he was concerned, she was completely worthless and couldn’t do anything right.
She didn’t dare infuriate him. Making him mad always spelt trouble for her. She tried to stay up and wait for him, but always seemed to succumb to sleep before his arrival. Her dreams haunted her. She was always running and terrified, with the beast breathing down her neck. She could feel his hatred. Even her dreams mirrored the sorry path her life had taken recently. She was jarred awake by unbelievable pain in her temple. She saw stars and tasted blood in her mouth. She slowly opened her eyes to see him glaring at her, twirling a revolver on his thumb.
“Get out of bed and get me a beer you lazy ugly bitch, NOW!” He grabbed her by the hair and threw her to the floor. A sob escaped as she reached for the bed to pull herself up. She felt dizzy and tasted blood. Disgusted, he kicked her in the stomach as he left the room. Her thoughts jumbled as she registered the gun. Where had he gotten a gun? He would kill her for sure now. She had to get away before it was too late! She wiped her tears and rushed to do his bidding.
He was sitting in the living room, surfing through the television channels like he always did. How she hated him. Oh God, how her head hurt! She felt like throwing up. Her stomach hurt worse than the last time he had kicked her there, if that were possible. One day he would go too far and kill her. She knew this as well as she knew her own name. She could run, but she couldn’t hide. He made her pay daily for being sleepy, for not doing something fast enough, and for simply breathing. Reflecting, she felt she had paid enough.
She poured the beer into a frosted glass, just the way he liked it. Once she had made the mistake of taking him the bottle. She had gotten a broken arm for that silly mistake. She wasn’t about to provoke him tonight. She had to hurry or he would come looking for her. That simply wouldn’t do. Casting a sidelong glance over her shoulder, she added a handful of pills from the bottle in her pocket and watched them dissolve as she quickly stirred the concoction. Her mind went over her plan of a different identity, a disguise, and flight to safety to the other side of the globe. He would never find “Amy” again. She had worked out the details over the past month. After months of overtime, scrimping, saving, and planning she was finally ready. She hurried the beer to him as he began to complain about how slow and stupid she was.
This is my response to Speakeasy’s weekly prompt, which is to write a piece in 750 words or less (mine is 702 words) and (1) use the sentence “It would be so easy” anywhere in the piece; and (2) make some kind of reference to the media prompt, which happens to be a video for Stayin’ Alive by the Bee Gees.