Never Again

     Tears fell as Kara packed her bag.  Another trip to the emergency room revealed her husband had broken her arm, split her lip, and given her another black eye this time. 

     “Damn woman, you are always sick.  You really are a worthless bitch.” He taunted before hurling a beer bottle at her.  She couldn’t help the allergies that had plagued her since childhood.  A quick apology only egged him on.

       As she picked herself up, she spied her 5 year old cowering in the corner and vowed this would end for her son’s sake, and her own. 

Never again.

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Escape

 
       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.

 

      “How in the hell is it possible that you could ruin beer?  This stuff tastes like shit.” He ranted and raved.  She took a seat as far away as she could.   It was then he began to sweat.  He turned green, then a ghastly shade of white.  “What did you do bitch?” he demanded.  He fell from the chair in convulsions as she watched horrified until his body finally stilled.  With one last look, she grabbed her car keys.  “I am taking my life back.  Burn in hell asshole!” she called as she frantically made her escape.  The trunk of the car had been packed for the perfect moment for the last week.   Inside held all her hopes and dreams.    Within a day the transformation would be complete.  She would change her clothes, her hair, and her face.  Amy, the cashier would cease to exist and in her place Angela, the artist would be born.  It would be so easy and the only chance of staying alive she would ever get.

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.

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Confrontation

      The biggest confrontation of my life is still a very vivid memory.  It was a moment when I finally stood up for myself.   It was the proverbial straw that broke the camels back of my first marriage.    At the time, we lived with my parents.  We never did officially set up housekeeping like normal married couples.  At first, it was because we didn’t have a lot of money.  After the beatings started, I was afraid to live alone with him.  I truly think he would have killed me.  I didn’t have to do anything to set him off at all.  At the time I was working a full time job and going to college at night.  He worked 2nd shift, so by the time he got home, I was usually asleep.  I had to get up early the next morning and go to work.  The fact that I was asleep was enough to pi$$ him off.  I remember being grabbed by the hair and thrown out of bed and slammed against the wall in a heap being a normal every night ritual.

        Shortly after my mom was first put on dialysis, my brother in law and his girlfriend had come to visit.  My ex had already put away a case of beer and was lit.  He was to the point where he could turn on me at any minute.  He became mean when he drank, and I have to admit…I was terrified of him.  I didn’t have to do much to set him off.  I have terrible allergies, and a runny nose could get me slapped upside the head and thrown into a wall quicker than I could bat an eyelash.    At that point in life I was afraid to leave him and knew it was a moot point because we lived with my parents.  Where in G0d’s holy name could I go?  Who would have helped me?  I had nowhere to go, and no one who would help me.  People tend to avoid things like this and don't want to get involved.  I didn’t want to burden others, and primarily I was ashamed.  At that point in my life, I believed I deserved to be treated that way.  After all, I was the dumb a$$ that said “I do” when I should have said “I don’t think so!”  I took my wedding vows seriously and firmly believed “till death do us part”.  

         I walked out in the living room and heard the three of them planning on tying fireworks to my cat and blowing her straight to hell.  I had no doubt in my mind that they would do it.  I was terrified and took my cat to my mother and told her to lock her bedroom door.  At that point my mother was outraged.  She grabbed her faithful shotgun Maude and marched out to the living room and ordered them all to get out of her house immediately or she would go get the sheriff who lived down the street.


        

       My ex-husband picked me up and threw me into the piano and then advanced towards my mother.  I picked myself up and put myself between him and her.  For the first time, I stood up to him and offered myself up to be sacrificed.  I told him he could kill me, but there was no way in hell I would allow him to lay one finger on my mom.  That stopped him cold.  He finally got the hint and left with his company following close behind.    I had made up my mind that it was over.  He was never going to lay a hand on me again.  He would either stop and leave, or kill me in the process.  Either way, I wasn’t being treated that way anymore by anyone.  

  
       Something inside me snapped that night with that momentous confrontation.      He left and filed for a divorce.  It was finally over, and I had survived.  I came out of that situation a much stronger person with a backbone made of steel.  The shy, timid mouse was gone and in her place a strong lady armed with a ready supply of whip-a$$ ready to take on the world.   I will never tolerate that kind of treatment again.   Thank G0d I lived to tell the tale, married my dear trucker husband, had children, and finally got to find true happiness until next time when I give you another glimpse into the life of a trucker’s wife.