A Little Chocolate Never Hurt

A smile played on Kara's lips as she set a pan into the oven, humming a tune as she did so. Flour was speckled on her arms and hands, bright against the darkness of her skin. Her smile and song were cheerful as she cleaned, placing her ingredients back into their homes. When she was done, she went back to the couch, scrolling on her phone and waiting for the timer to ding its merry little melody.

The rich scent of chocolate cake began to fill the air, spilling out of the kitchen and into the living room. The timer on the oven dinged, and at the same moment, the garage door screeched upward, groaning and whining. Kara's bright smile began to dim, dipping down at the corners and turning itself into a displeased frown. Her husband was home. He wouldn't be pleased that she'd baked a cake. Though he was never truly pleased, not anymore.

When they'd gotten married, Pete had been a loving man. He'd held her and told her she was beautiful and danced with her beneath the stars. Now the only words he ever said dripped malice and contempt. 'You're looking pretty heavy, Kara, wouldn't you like to fix that?' or 'Can't you do anything right, ever?' She shook herself from her reverie and went toward the kitchen to pull out her cake. Sure, she wasn't as small as she had been on her wedding day, but she certainly wouldn't consider herself obese. She curved and faint jaggedy marks marred her skin, but if it weren't for Pete she would feel as beautiful as the day she'd donned her long white gown.

Kara set the cake down onto the counter as the door slammed shut, shaking the tiny house in which they lived. She tried her best to ignore the look he gave her; disinterested, disgruntled, disgusted.

"Hello," Pete said flatly, setting his coat down on a chair.

"Hi, Pete," She said, tying up her hair so she could make the frosting. Then he went back to his room to change. They did not share a room, it had become too difficult to be that close. She'd spoken to him about divorce before. He said it was out of the question.

'God says it is a sin, Kara. He protects us from evil, so long as we follow his sacred word. Don't you understand anything?'

'Of course, I understand... but I don't even believe in-'

Then he'd hit her. It had been the first time. A sharp slap across her cheek. The sound reverberated in her ears for hours after, nearly drowned out by her sobs. She knew the tender kisses and kind words of her husband were gone. Now all that remained was a husk of the man he'd been, the same beautiful green eyes and blonde hair, but an entirely different soul.

With Pete back in the bedroom, she began the process of making her delicious chocolate cream cheese frosting. She watched as the mixer beat the cream cheese, whipping it into a fluffy consistency. The peaks turned brown as she added the cocoa powder, reminding her of when she'd fallen in love.

'A little more, and maybe some chocolate chips,' he said, burying his nose into the crook of her neck.

She giggled, pouring in a few more sprinkles of the powder, making it puff up into clouds around their faces. 'Is that enough?' she asked, turning to see him from the corner of her sparkling brown eyes.

Instead of responding, he flipped her around, kissing her hard, yet with all the gentleness and restraint he could muster. She wrapped her arms up around his neck, pulling him closer. Still, he was gentle, as if she were going to fly away if he got too rough.

'I am not fragile," she said, and all his restraint melted away.

The next day he'd asked her to marry him. The next year they'd been wed. And then as the years flipped by their happiness began to fleck away, morphing itself into something different; something sad.

When the frosting finished, she put it aside, turning to focus on the cake instead. She leveled it, and popped a piece of the top into her mouth. She nearly melted at how good it was; moist, spongy, and chocolatey.

"Can't even wait for the cake to be done, Kara?" his voice shattered whatever glee she'd gotten from how good her cake had turned out. He was good at that.

"I didn't want to go through frosting it if it wasn't any good," she said, deadpan. She tried to ignore him, continuing her work, focusing not on the shaking of her fingers but on spreading the topping on the cake. She globbed another scoop of frosting on, spreading it thickly onto the top and sides.

"I thought you were going on a diet," he headed toward the couch, not even looking at her as he said it.

"No. You wanted me to go on a diet. There's a difference."

At that, he stopped and turned to look at his wife. He's so changed, she thought, but he looks the same. It made her chest ache.

Slowly he began to walk toward her, his eyes dangerously cold. His long arms crossed over his chest, body taking slow, mechanical steps toward Kara.

"Kara, you know I want what's best for you," he was towering over her, backing her into the corner, arms still folded. "You've changed. Look at you. You used to be so small, so beautiful. What happened to you Kara? Little bites off the top of a cake, an extra helping of dinner. Can't you understand that I want you to be healthy? That I want you to follow the plan God has set for you?"

Kara was shaking. It was always the same with him. Don't you understand? She understood plenty. He was tired of her, plain and simple. He didn't care if she was 'healthy'. He didn't even care what God wanted for her. He only wished she were someone else. Kara said nothing, staring up into his dark green eyes.

He glared down at her, the anger of a thousand burning suns swimming in his eyes, "Can you hear me, Kara?"

When she didn't respond again, he raised up to his full height, anger splotching his pale face. Spittle shot from his lips as he screamed, "I said, 'Can you hear me?'"

Kara then crossed her own arms, matching his gaze with fury of her own.

"I can hear you just fine, maybe instead of screaming and insulting my weight we could-" but Pete had heard enough. He slammed his hand over her throat, pressing her up against the cabinets over the counter. Her eyes grew wild as she clawed at his fingers, but she was not nearly so strong as he. He began hitting her, blow after blow landing on her face, her arms, anywhere he could get to.

Kara searched desperately for a way out. Beside her was the knife, covered in crumbs from when she'd leveled the cake with it. Her mind began to race. Is that really the best option? Could I live with myself after? What would he do if I didn't succeed?

But her mind was made up for her when he spat in her face. Thick, viscous saliva dripped down her dark skin, coating her cheek in spit. Faintly, she could hear him laughing darkly. Her vision became splotchy, and she could feel herself losing consciousness. She had to act quickly.

Kara did not try to convince her husband to let go. She merely slumped over, as though she was passing out, and quickly grabbed the knife that sat on the counter. For a moment, Pete looked like a real man. One full of fear, not one who hit his wife at the smallest inconvenience. She ignored the panging in her chest as she saw who he had been, long ago. She was losing herself quickly, so plunged the knife down, down, down, and heard a sound, unlike anything she'd experienced before.

A strangled cry left Pete's throat, and he let go of her. Kara slumped forward, not thinking about him, only about the ache in her throat.

"Why? Why, Kara, what did you do?" his voice was thick, with tears or blood she wasn't sure. Blood was pouring from his back at a steady pace, and Pete had never been one for pain. Even a paper cut was enough to make him tear up.

She couldn't speak, be it from the fear or the anger or the pain. Pete was breathing erratically, rasping and gurgling. He backed up, arms flailing desperately to try and reach the knife, but he could only tap it. Then a sound far worse than before was ripped from his lips as he hit the wall, pressing the knife in farther. He flopped unceremoniously to the floor, trying to drag his way toward her.

She stood, going over to stand in front of him. Sadness did not fill her, only anger, and cold neutrality.

"Kara?" he rasped, voice growing weaker.

"Is this what God planned for you, Pete?" His eyes got big, and his breaths came faster and faster. Then they didn't come at all.

The full force of what had just happened hit Kara, hard. She stared down uselessly at Pete. What have I done? What will I do?

She turned to see that blood had made it onto her cake, and she made a noise of pure anguish. Perhaps the noise she should have made because her husband was dead, not because the best cake she had ever baked was ruined.

Then, something clicked. She wasn't sure what, but she knew that standing over his body wouldn't help any more than baking a second cake would. At least that would settle her nerves.

"Time to start again," she said simply and began to gather the ingredients to bake the perfect chocolate cake.