A Room of Her Own

The door clicked with the finality of a jailor locking a cell. He was gone for the day.

She pushed a strand of thick auburn hair back into her loose bun, looking down at the child by her feet. “Momma?”

“Yes, Maximillian?”

“Book? Libary?”

“No library today. Maybe tomorrow.”

Satisfied, the child toddled to his playroom. She stayed, watching through half turned blinds until the Lexus pulled out. He was gone.

She turned and slipped towards Max’s playroom, where he played with his Duplo blocks. She turned on nursery rhymes from an app, filling the room with music. Max smiled at her, and she allowed herself a brief smile.

She slipped down the hallway to the bedroom. Mustn’t make a noise. Never make a noise. She pulled the suitcase onto the bed and opened it.

She surveyed the contents. The clothes. Diapers. Max’s favourite book and stuffy. A new burner phone. All $342.65 she’d scrounged since Max was born. Not enough. It took patience. Silence. Waiting. She fumbled with the zippers, and returned the suitcase. Mustn’t let him know. Never let him know.

And then she was on the floor by the bed, nail file in hand, popping out the loose floorboard, and pulling out her little black notebook. Her safe haven. The answer to her problems. Her sanity.

Her breath slowed and she reread her last entry.

Momma always warned me about rich men. I wanted her to be wrong. Needed to escape. But at least I have this book. A place for my voice.

She always quoted Virginia Woolf. “All a woman needs is a room of her own, and enough money to escape her man.” I don’t think that’s how Virginia Woolf said it, but that’s what Momma said.

I wanted Momma to be wrong. I wanted my fairy tale ending. Not to relive her nightmares.

Momma always said you only escape once they’re six feet down. But how? How can we escape?

Her ears perked up. A car in the driveway? He shouldn’t be home. And then the black book was in the bottom of her purse on the nightstand. Her fingers trembled, pushing the floorboard back in place. Mustn’t leave a trace. Never leave a trace. She slipped back to the playroom, with Max and his lego.

“Look, Momma,” Max beamed.

“Wonderful.” Her voice quavered.

“Help?”

“Of course.” She picked up a block and added it to his tower. Then she felt his eyes, boring into her back. She looked up, eyes wide. “Forgot something?”

“You did. The cheque yesterday. Where is it?”

“We deposited it. Max and I took it to the bank yesterday morning. The teller stamped the copy, and I put it at your place on the table when we got home.”

“Would I be here if you had?” His eyes narrowed, like a wild animal circling its prey. A tiger in an Armani suit. They can smell fear.

“Of course not. I’ll phone the bank.”

“Don’t bother. I’ll do it myself. I don’t know why I bother to asking you.” He punched the wall. Max flinched. “You’ve made me late, ruined my whole day.”

She tensed. “We deposited it. I’ll find it.”

But he had disappeared. Where was it? Thumping punctuated his every move. She’d put it on the table. Of course she had. Her purse. He was probably going through her purse.

Her whole body tensed. The black book. Her purse.

She looked at Max. “Stay here, okay, Maximillian? Momma's gonna help Papa.”

Max smiled, playing again. She latched the door, racing down the hallway. It was silent. Why was it silent?

He stood in the bedroom, her purse emptied on the bed, the little black book in his hands. Her heart dropped.

He looked up. “What. The. Hell.”

She bit her cheek. “Where did you get that?”

“I was looking for the cheque. But apparently I have bigger problems today.”

Silence.

“Nothing to say? You had quite a lot to say here.”

And then something snapped in her. This was the point of no return. “Mother was right.” The words hung between them.

“Why even bring her up? She’s been dead for years.”

“She said it’s the mother’s place to keep the child safe from any man.”

“If you weren’t so useless, it wouldn’t be a problem.”

“I’m not the problem.” The words tumbled out.

No turning back now.

“What did you say?”

“I’m not the problem.”

“What nerve!” He opened the notebook, reading the meticulous notes she had taken. Mustn’t leave a trace. Never leave a trace. He smiled. “Know what you’ve done?”

“Tried to keep you from silencing me.”

“You’ve given me a perfect defence. I’ll end you for good and I’ll enjoy it.”

Her mind raced, every muscle in her body tense, as she backed away.

“After all this time, you don’t want to play?”

“I’m done with you.”

“But I’m not done with you. Oooh, I know! Let’s play therapist before I end you. This’ll be fun. Tell me about your mother. The raging drunk. Your father, burning to death. How I was the only good thing in your life.” He lowered his voice. “Tell me again.”

The fire grew inside her. “I never told you everything. How she got him blinding drunk, tucked into bed. Lit a candle by my polyester bedroom curtains. How she protected her family.”

“Really? I’m surprised she had the guts.”

“You’re worse than my father. Your fancy suits can’t hide that.”

“I haven’t even begun.” His eyes softened. “You need help.”

“Why pretend to care?”

He laughed. “I always pretended. You’ve made it easy. All the ways you’ve planned to kill me. This book is a golden defence. So much time at the library… You’re clever. But not clever enough.”

“I’m done with you gas lighting me. Silencing me.”

“Where’s your proof? Hospital visits? Police reports? Nothing.”

“Lower your voice. Don’t let Max hear.” Mustn’t lose focus. Never lose control.

“That. That was really funny. Be sure not to scream you die. Wouldn’t want little Max to hear Momma screaming. Traumatic. And who will take care of Max? That’s right. Me Such tragedy followed your family. But you refused the help I tried to get you. And in the end, you even turned on me.”

“They would never believe that.”

“Of course they will. Hey, let’s relive our wedding night, the fun and pleasure of chasing each other through the house. Let’s do it again. Just for fun. I’ll even give you a head start.”

“You’ve never had to fight like me. I’ll win.”

He threw back his head and she could see every one of his perfect white teeth as he laughed. “Again, super funny. You’ll never win,” he said. “But that was funny. So I’ll give you a 20 second head start instead of 10. Ready? 20. 19. You’re making this far too easy… 18.”

She fled to the kitchen. Something small and sharp. Fumbling from drawer to drawer of the immaculate designer kitchen for knives she could hide. She heard him thumping down the hall. Overconfident. She met him with the sharpest knife from the butcher’s block.

“1.” He’d taken off his suit jacket and tie. The top two buttons were undone, and he was rolling up his sleeves. “What will you take off first?”

“Don’t touch me.”

“Aww… Better on our wedding night.”

“You don’t deserve me.”

“You’re right. I deserve much better. And you have no idea how replaceable you really are. And, of course, I’ll have Max to remember you by.”

She lunged, but he disarmed her easily.

“You know, I think I like you like this. Fiery.” He pushed her against the wall. “Maybe I’ll take you here before I end you. One last time. But quiet. Maxy’s listening.” He pinned her hands above her with one hand, as he ran the other down her body. She struggled vainly.

“Relax, babe. Let’s have fun.”

She stopped struggling.

His cell rang, and holding her arms with one hand, he grabbed the phone with the other. “Hello? I know.” He sighed. “There’s been a… slight delay. Maybe an hour or two? Can you reschedule?” He paused. “Perfect. Bye.”

He hung up, and as he replaced the phone, he relaxed just enough for her to pull one hand loose. In a fluid movement, she grabbed the knife she’d hidden in her loose bun, and in one swift motion, she slashed it across his neck.

The look of surprise burned into her eyes, as they were both covered in warm blood. For once, nothing came from his mouth. Nothing. In a final act, he reached a hand to clamp the blood spewing from his neck, and with the other, he grabbed her neck, squeezing. She fought, pulling at his fingers, while her vision blurred.

They both slumped to the floor, and all was still. Silent.

Max called for a snack. No one answered.

No one could.

And then, she gasped. His grasp loosened. She gasped, her mind fuzzy.

She pushed up, air filling her lungs. It was over. She watched his eyes glazing over, the last remnants of life draining away.

Blood still pooling beneath his neck. He wasn’t coming back.

Everything moved quickly in slow motion. Every detail acute. She turned on the shower, undressing under the hot, calming water, blood pooling at her feet, then running down the drain. She scrubbed herself down, over and over. Mustn’t leave any evidence. Never leave a trace.

Adrenaline and disjointed thoughts racing. He owned the town. There was no escape here.

She towelled her hair, dressed, and pulled down the suitcase. Dropped it beside the bed. Max still calling for a snack.

She scooped the scattered contents from the bed into her purse, keeping a plastic bag back for the clothes in the tub. Then she was back on her hands and knees, loosening the floorboard. Every detail crystal clear.

And then something she’d never seen, a tiny latch at the very edge of the compartment beneath the floorboard. She lifted it, and found another compartment.

She stared.

A paper.

If you find this, I hope you escape him. I never could.

Beneath the paper were bundles of hundred dollar bills, each marked $2,000. She counted them. 10 stacks. $20,000.

Was it possible? Could she actually start over?

She took out the money and note, and put the wet clothes below the floorboard. The adrenaline was still coursing through her veins. Must keep moving. Never stop.

She opened her purse, and dropped in one stack of bills. The rest of the money went into the suitcase. Her hands still shaking, she took the suitcase to the front door and went into the kitchen. He lay there on the floor, staring up at her. She crept towards him, reaching into his pocket for his car keys. Every muscle tense, half expecting him to sit up, grab her.

But there he lay, eyes open, lifeless. Keys in hand, she went and put the suitcase in the Lexus, and headed back to the playroom.

Max was sitting there, still playing lego. He looked up. “Momma play?”

She smiled at him. “Not now, sweetheart. We’re going for a car ride.” His eyes lit up. “Give Momma a hug.” He jumped into her arms and nestled in.

She paused to savour the warmth. She turned Max’s head towards her neck passing the kitchen. No goodbyes. On went Max’s shoes and jacket, then her own. She locked the door for the last time, buckled Max into his carseat, got into the car, and backed out of the driveway.

Her mind felt was lighter. For the first time, she and Max would have choices. Money to start a new life, and the world open to them to start their own story.

She would finally have a room of her own.

And all the choices in the world lay open before them.