One Night

She lay on the bed next to him. He had finally worn himself out, thank whatever gods there were. There would be no more torture tonight. 1

As he began to snore, she slowly worked her way to the edge of the bed, freezing as his arm came over her.2

"Where ya goin', Baby?" he asked sleepily.3

Trembling with fear, she replied quietly, "J-just to the bathroom."4

He rolled over. "Hokay, Baby," his words were slurred from the whiskey. He began to snore again.5

She got out of the bed and made her painful way to the bathroom, where she sat on the toilet and bit back screams of pain while she urinated. 6

Finally, she finished and carefully cleaned herself, then went to the sink to wash her hands. Catching sight of her face in the mirror, she stopped and stared. She took in the black eye, the bruises on her cheekbone and jaw, and the split lip. Then she gingerly washed her face with cool water and turned to go back to the bedroom.7

At the door, she stopped and stood, looking at his shadowed form, sleeping peacefully on his side of the bed. Images of the night's torture flashed in her mind: his shouting insults at her, calling her names, how he had thrown her against the kitchen counter and then to the floor, then dragged her to the bedroom, then punch after punch to her face and body. Then he had thrown her onto the bed and raped her.8

Afterward, he had held her and drunkenly apologized. He was sorry, but she had made him do it. If she would only straighten up and be a good wife, he would not have to get rough with her. 9

For what seemed hours, but in reality was only seconds, she stood, reliving her pain. Suddenly, something inside her snapped. She could hear it. The crack of it sounded like a blacksnake whip. 10

She turned from the bedroom and walked calmly to the living room where the gun cabinet was. Opening it, she reached in for the Lorson 9mm. He had been shooting it earlier, and she hadn't seen him unload it when he put it away.11

She was unfamiliar with this particular handgun, but had grown up around guns, so she sat on the couch with it, studying it for awhile. Then she took it to the bedroom with her. 12

Silently, like a shadow, she walked to his side of the bed. She stared down at the man she had loved and now hated. With cold, calculated composure, she pointed the gun at his head. Calmly, she squeezed the trigger. 13

There was an impossibly loud 'click,' as the gun dry-fired. He had unloaded it. She froze as he stirred and rolled over, then began snoring again. Slowly, she went and put the gun away.14

"You stupid bitch," she told herself within her mind, "he's right, you can't do anything right. You can't even kill him right."15

She sat on the couch and stared at the telephone. Maybe she could still get away from him. She picked up the phone and dialed. 16

As she sat, waiting for the police to arrive, she began to cry.17