Murder, A Dish Best Served Hot

What could I do? How could I escape? How could I have let this happen? Was it my fault?

All the bruises and cuts flooded my memory like home videos on a tv. I stood there in my skirt with my hair in a bun and my shirt clean and crisp with an apron over me. My black flats, that were worn out and hanging on by a thread, freshly cleaned and fixed to the best of my ability. I prayed it was enough.

"Welcome home dear," I said hiding my trembling hands as my husband entered the house. I had dinner on the table for the two of us, a hot pot roast in a boiling broth. the smell made me salvate this wasn't only his favorite meal but mine. "I made our favorite." I smiled at him brightly like my life depended on it.

"Whatever get my food woman," I was used to this. I ran for a bowl and quickly filled it. I looked at my husband. his dirty blonde hair was slicked back and he wore a black suit with a matching tie I had gotten him for his birthday. That had gotten me a broken rib and arm. at least that time he had let me go to the hospital most of the time I wasn't that lucky. His eyes were cold green and they seemed to be filled with a hatred for me and I didn't know why.

"I hope you like it," I kept smiling hoping to improve his mood to no avail.

Suddenly the bowl flew off the table and shattered into a thousand pieces. I screamed and flinched. "You call that pot roast it tastes like shit," he stood and stomped his way over to me. He drew his hand back and struck me right across the cheek hard. My head flew back as the pain filled my face and I felt a tooth loosen in my bottom jaw. I coward on the floor as he came towards me again. I covered my stomach with my hands instinctually and prepared for the worst. I knew it was coming the screaming, punching, kicking. I cried as the first kick sent me sliding into the bowl shards. I felt them poke me in the back and side I felt the slight stream of blood from a few of them. My arms would be bruised but it least I wouldn't get internal bleeding. I used to be a nurse so I knew it would be a problem if his foot hit me full force. I had given that up for him. I was done with him with this abuse I couldn't stand it anymore I would either leave or die trying.

"You pathetic girl why did I marry you, honestly you're useless!" I tried to stand but my legs were still wobbly from the impact.

He drew his hand back again but I refused to go down this time. I ducked and he lost his balance as he swung and hit nothing. He stumbled for a split second, but as he regained his stance he looked at me with more fury than a bull who saw red. He walked over to me and slammed my chair against the wall as he walked past.

"Big mistake," he whispered like secret. He grabbed my throat and slammed me up against the wall. I was a goner, I felt my windpipe close and my lungs burned for oxygen. I felt around the wall for something anything that could help me. I felt my head go fuzzy and vision go black. My lungs were screaming at this point and I needed to breath.

Then something found my fingers. It felt cold and cool like glass but I couldn't turn my head. he was so focused on my neck that he didn't notice the object above his head. I then remembered what it was. Our wedding photo. I raised it as high as I could and with the last of my strength I smashed it over his head.

It had apparently been enough because he let go and fell to the ground. I fell as well and took in a huge gasp of air and my lungs thanked me. My husband groaned on the ground I was so tempted to run but he would catch me, find me and this would all start again. I looked at the picture in my hand, me in white with my long blonde hair in waves, my brown eyes full of hope and my mouth in a wide smile at my new life and my husband the sweet man I thought would protect me and love me. I was not the same person anymore. I was a woman who had been destroyed emotionally, abused physically, and broken spiritually.

I took the broken piece of picture frame in my hand and as my husband quickly started to move I dropped it and ran to the stove where I picked up a large heavy pan and smash it into his head. he went down again and he didn't move. I cautiously checked his pulse it was there and it wasn't weak I tried to think of something. I looked over to the big pot of broth and meat and an idea formed in my head. I ran over and began to scoop all the meat out of the broth. I put it on the stove and let it boil.

I dragged him over to the table and picked up the giant pot off the stove careful to not let the boiling liquid hit my hands. I put on the floor sloshing it slightly. I took my husbands head and slammed it into the pot. he began to struggle and move but I held him down with all my strength, the adrenaline filled me with more of it than I even knew I had.

"This is for everything you put me through the past ten years!" I screamed at the struggling body. after two minutes went by I lifted his head out. His face was covered in blisters and redder than a strawberry. I felt nothing but relief. So I went over to meat, got a bowl and began to eat.