Mother's Chocolate Cake

Every year on my husband William's birthday, I was required to make him a cake. The first time I was more than happy to prepare his perfect chocolate cake. It was his mother's recipe and it was fairly simple to follow, or so I thought.

You see, up until we had gotten married, things between him and I were great. People referred to us as William and Gabby the dream couple. I was so in love and couldn't believe I found my prince charming. He did and said all the right things and when William proposed, I was over the moon with excitement.

Our wedding was elegant and magical. I felt like a fairy princess in my gown. We danced the night away and headed off to our Paris honeymoon. I was so in awe that I completely missed the first red flag. William proved to be a monster in disguise. In went in one ear and out the other when her referred to me as his property. If I wasn't oblivious to his words and realized I'd made a colossal mistake, maybe just maybe, I could have avoided the years of abuse.

We had been married for a few months and for the first time, I saw his true self. It was his birthday, and William kept going on and on about his mother's famous chocolate cake. I started getting nervous when it came time to put his cake in the oven. I began second-guessing myself. What if I put too much flour? Did I put enough coco powder? I got the uneasy feeling like it needed to be perfect! I didn't know why; perhaps it was because of William’s high expectations.

When it came time to take the cake out, I felt some relief. The cake appeared to be just fine and smelled fantastic. The chocolatly aromas filled the kitchen. All around, I thought it would taste amazing. I whipped the frosting together with the melted dark and milk chocolates. It came together so fast that my nerves rapidly grew and took over me again. I reached for a spoon and decided to have one little taste. The frosting was so smooth and creamy the flavor exploded my taste buds. I never tasted a frosting as heavenly as the one I made. I only hoped the cake would be just as delicious.

Feeling confident with a job well done, I frosted the cake and waited for William to come home. When he walked into the house the first thing out of his mouth was, “It doesn't smell like my mother's cake in here.”

My heart shattered! I tried so hard to create his ideal cake, and he quickly made me believe I failed. How could he tell by sniffing the air that my cake wasn't to his standards? He hadn't even tasted it yet. I felt ashamed because if he was deterred from the smell alone, what would he say when he bit into it. After that, I stayed in the kitchen, and tried to hold back my tears as I finished dinner.

William was unpleasant during dinner. Every other word out of his mouth was a snide remark about how awful his food tasted. I never saw this side of my husband before. He made me believe I was a failure. All I wanted to do was get dinner over with and eat his ruined cake and go to bed. But at the same moment chew slowly because I was worried about serving the cake. It didn't matter anyway when William was finished he demanded I bring him a slice of chocolate cake.

I dreaded every minute of cutting the cake. Before I brought out his piece, I decided to try a tidbit. It was incredible, the rich chocolate flavor caressed my senses. As I chewed the decadent and moist cake combined with the irresistible frosting, I couldn't help but think William will love this. For the first time since he had gotten home I wasn't nervous about bringing him the cake.

I carried our cake to the table, sat his piece down with a smile and watched as he took the first bite. William forked out a chunk and began to chew. Right after that, he looked up with rage in his eyes and threw his plate at my face. The plate broke as it bounced off my head and the glass fell to the floor. One shard managed to cut my forehead, leaving me with blood and cake all over my face. William got up and screamed, “THAT CAKE WAS DISGUSTING! NOW CLEAN THIS SHIT UP GABBY!

I stared at him with fear in my eye as he stormed out of the dining room. I couldn't even comprehend what just happened. Pain and questions filled my mind. Who was this man? This was Not the guy I married. What did I do to deserve this? I decided to avoid him for the rest of the night, maybe tomorrow would be better.

Only it didn't get better; it got much, much worse! The physical and mental abuse escalated. It went on for years. William treated me like an old piece of garbage. Throwing anything he could get his hands on at me, kicking, punching and hurting me day after day. He would slam me down to the ground and beat me black and blue. So many times I needed medical attention but I was never allowed to leave the house. He forbid it.

I was scared for my life. I tried to think of any way possible to get out alive. It seemed almost impossible, but I knew I had to do something. A bunch of ideas popped into my head, but only one seemed plausible, and that was poison and sleeping pills.

My options we limited but I came up with a plan. I would poison his birthday cake. It was only a few days away so I had to act fast. When he was at work I gathered all the rat poison in the house and ground it up to a powder a long with the sleeping pills. I needed to put it in the cake and frosting. The only good thing that happened over the past few years is I was finally able to achieve perfecting his mother's cake recipe. So I knew he would eat every last bite.

The day arrived, and when William left for work, I began making his very last birthday cake. I poured and mixed all the ingredients together and made sure to add the secret components. I hid a getaway bag and money I had saved up in the closet by the front door and waited for him to get home.

The time for cake dragged on, but once he finished his dinner just like every year; he demanded his slice of chocolate cake. I was more than happy to get it for him. I cut a good-sized piece and took it to the table. I started to get worried the poison and pills affected the taste but William sat there and are every last bite. And to my surprise, asked for another piece. I gladly obliged like a loving wife should and brought him some more.

I waited for either the poison or sleeping pills to kick in. Soon after, I watched as his head fell face-first into his cake. This was it! I ran for the closet, grabbed my bag and his keys, and off I went.

I drove straight to the airport to hop on a plane going to the farthest destination. It just so happened that Jamaica was my only option. I quickly bought a ticket a made my way through security. It had taken an hour to get on the plane, but I was so excited to start my life over.

Jamaica was stunning; I was blown away by the island's beauty. I knew from then on I would never have to suffer again. I had some difficulty when I tried to get a place to stay, but I didn't stop until I found one.

My life couldn't have been better. I had never been so happy and free. I owed a cute little house by the beach and had a small business selling hand-crafted items. What else could a woman dream of?

A few years passed, and I continued to live my best life. Until one day I heard a loud knock at my door. I got up to see who it was. When I opened the door the only thing I saw was a random package wrapped in brown paper. I picked it up and ripped it open to see what was inside. I was horrified because the contents of the package shook me to my core. Inside was a slice of chocolate cake and a note.

Dear Gabby, I told you that you are my property! You will never be free! I will always find you! With eternal love, your husband William. ❤️