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Rated: 18+ · Short Story · Emotional · #1426429
abusive relationship comes to an end
She dropped the gun and stumbled aimlessly backwards. Staring blankly at his motionless body she still feels the fear he has instilled in her. Her mind is racing, clicking through pictures of all those horror movies she had watched. Those movies that need six sequels to finally kill the monster.  It appears to be dead and then suddenly comes back to life just as the hero bends down over the beast.
       
"Shit. What am I doing? What am I gonna do now?" Her mind is traveling a million miles a minute yet she can't make her feet move even one inch. Jenna tries to calm down enough to figure out what her next step should be. "Shit! The neighbors must have heard the shots. Those damn neighbors hear everything."

She paces the floor thinking about all those times one of the women in the building would come over to see if she needed help after her husband was through "teaching her a lesson", as he liked to phrase it.

"If they were so concerned why didn't they just leave me alone? They just made him angry all over again, making him think I told everyone our business."
       
"I gotta think." She closes her eyes and takes a deep breath. Upon the exhale she immediately begins to pace around the body of her husband. " I don't have time to think the cops are probably on their way right now. Why did you make me do this?" Without even thinking about it she talks to her husband as if he would finally listen to her. "Maybe you're not even dead yet; maybe you can hear everything I'm saying." Taking full advantage of the possibility that he can hear her she continues to finally have her say. "Why did it have to be this way? Day after day, month after month, I went out of my way to keep you from getting upset. It was never enough though, was it?"
       
The more she talked, the braver she became. No matter what she said he wouldn't be able to do anything to punish her. She wouldn't t have to hide away with friends or in shelters waiting for the time when he would find her as he always did. She finally feels as though she has gotten away from him, she knows that he can't drag her by the hair to follow him this time. Feeling like this was the moment she had been waiting for, after enduring years of silence, she knew she had to continue. "I've had to lie to so many people for so long that I'm not even sure if I know how to tell the truth anymore. I had to lie about how I got the bruises so that I wouldn't get more." She began to laugh, an exhausted, disgusted laugh, "isn't that ironic? I was so stupid; lying so that you wouldn't beat me again, when all along it was my lies that made it possible for you to get away with it." Is that why you were so mean to me? Am I so stupid that I deserve it? Are all of those other reasons just excuses to protect me from knowing how stupid I am? Excuses, hmmm, maybe those were excuses for you. Maybe you're the one who is stupid."
       
"Let's see, what was yesterday's excuse?" She asks him. "Oh yeah," sounding as if it just popped into her mind, "it was the groceries. I bought the cheap brand of beer, and the canned vegetables without labels. I can still hear you as you threw the bag across the kitchen, "How the hell do you know what's in these damn things?"" As she mimicked his every motion and word she knew she didn't ever want to copy what usually came next. She can only act it out the way she wanted it to happen the first time; every time.
       
"What the hell does it matter what's in the cans? You probably can't even work the can opener without help, and no matter what I choose to cook for you it isn't what you wanted. Not to mention that we barely have enough money to buy food let alone the case after case of beer you suck down every week. The cans without labels are cheaper; we can't afford the damn labels!"  She thinks about how good it feels to finally say these things to him after all this time. She hasn't fooled herself into believing that he doesn't already know all these things; but none the less it made her feel liberated to be able to speak freely.
       
"If you weren't so damn proud..." she stops suddenly as she's interrupted by a knock at the door, "Shit! The cops are here already. What do I do? What do I say?" Slowly she makes her way to the door; her heart is pounding so hard she worries her chest may explode from the pressure. She can barely catch her breath as the knock on the door is repeated. Her heart skips a beat with each tap on the rotted, wooden door that hangs loosely by only half its screws. "I may as well just open the useless thing; it certainly hasn't kept anyone out so far." Referring to her husband who she always hoped would stay on the other side of the door.         
       
She moves toward the door, shaking so badly she has to hold onto the furniture to keep her balance. As she makes her way across the room she's picturing what the police officer will look like. Her imagination sees him as being close to retirement, overweight and tired, probably long past the time when he could mentally handle his job. She imagines a man who under the pressures of his job often had to "teach" his own wife a lesson or two at the end of a hard day.  "That would be just my luck" she mumbles to the body as she passes it. She opens the door just enough to peek out to see how many policemen were sent. Her mind can't believe what her eyes are seeing.
       
"I'm sorry this just isn't a good time for us Kate, please..."
       
" I know, just come with me."
       
" I can't, you don't understand!" Jenna can't imagine what her neighbor is planning to do as she forces her way into the apartment.
       
" Excuse me but what the hell do you think you' re doing in my apartment?" Jenna is panicking now, she watches the woman walk across the room going in the direction of the body.
       
" Just trust me for a minute, please." The woman bends down picks up the gun with the bandana that was holding back her long, curly, fiery red hair. She tucks the gun into her waistband and walks toward Jenna. She takes Jenna by the hand and speedily escorts her across the dingy hallway to her own apartment where Jenna is surprised to see the rest of the tenants from her building. Jenna's mind spins out of control wondering what they're doing. She wonders if they're performing a citizen's arrest, or just holding her and the gun as evidence. She looks over the apartment wondering what they would do if she just got up and ran out of there without ever looking back.
       
Kate hands the gun to a man Jenna thinks is the maintenance man of their building. He puts it into a backpack and leaves the apartment.
       
"' We called the police and they'll be here soon so listen closely and do exactly as I tell you. Let us do the talking, after all, your husband has just been shot, it's understandable that you would be too distraught to speak to anyone." To be sure that Jenna understands what is going on she adds, " poor man, how horrible to have to die without your wife by your side." 
       
Before Jenna has a chance to respond the sounds of sirens get closer. Her heart is racing; she is so scared she begins crying uncontrollably. She hears the screech of the tires as the police and ambulance arrive. Within seconds they hear footsteps hurrying up the steps and going into Jenna's apartment. Kate opens her door and informs the police officers that the man's wife is in her apartment. " I had to get her away from that horrible scene officer."
       
" Anybody see anything?"
       
" No officer" Kate states firmly, " We were all out in the yard; all except for Mr. Lewis. He wasn't feeling well today. We've asked our landlord a hundred times to put a lock on that front door downstairs, but he never got around to it. Maybe this will get his attention. Isn't it terrible that this has to happen for people to realize how dangerous this neighborhood has gotten?
       
One of the other neighbors walks over to Jenna and brushes her hair back to expose the bruises on the side of her face. " Look at this! People are crazy around here, they'll beat you up for a lousy bag of groceries."

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