Turkey

Time is cruel to me. I wish for 4:30 PM to prolong as much as possible, for it seems that specific time reduces the sunlight to a mocking blur, taunting me of the happiness I can no longer feel. Happiness... the strange emotion of laughter... merriment. I have succumbed to a life of sadness since the marking day of my marriage.

My fingers trace the scars racing up my forearms, sliding gently over the dark violet ridges. My flesh tingles with tenderness and ache to the touch. I cringe, and draw my hand away to my side. Sitting on the sofa, with dinner prepared and ready to feast upon at the oak table, I stare at the bouquet of flowers resting on the glass coffee table. I am dressed in a red cocktail dress, my curly auburn hair pinned up into a loose bun. My husband will be home any minute.

I sighed, knowing what will arrive home with my husband... his short temper. My scars bear proof to such, along with the dark, violent bruises that mark my thighs. Having been married to this man for three-and-a-half cruel years, his beatings began to hurt less and less, to the point I would numb my mind of such pain. I was mentally invincible to his harsh lashes, though he had not come to discover that much.

The front door opens, and our alabaster great dane named Rosy, rises from her mat and trots toward that monster happily, wagging her tail. A cold shiver runs down my spine... if only Rosy knew what a monster he was. I hear his voice echo from the entry way, deep and charming to some, "My love, where are you?"

I slowly stand away from the sofa, and grimly enter the entry way with a practiced smile upon my face, "Hello, darling, how was work?"

He swoops me into his big arms and embraces me in a hug, kissing my forehead with soft lips, "Like every other day. I couldn't stop thinking about you." He pulls away and grins at me, his eyes shining. However, I knew the monster was lingering behind those green eyes, just waiting to arise. "You are beautiful, my love."

I return his smile with one of my own, "Thank you. I've prepared a surprise for you waiting on the table," I say, pulling away from his arms and entering the kitchen to retrieve the red wine and two glasses. I hear him enter the dining room.

"Turkey!" He exclaimed happily, "You read my mind, love."

I enter the dining room with the two full wine glasses in hand, and see he had already taken his seat at the head of the table. "Precisely. I thought you might like that." I place a glass next to his hand, and cross the precipice to my seat at the other end of the table. I raise my glass to a toast, "To a happy life,"

He returned my toast, "To a happy life." We both drank from the wine. I eyed him above my wine glass, a slight and sick thrill creeping into my stomach.

He placed the glass upon the table and gazed at the turkey, clearing his throat. His eyes hardened into confusion, his mouth forming lines of a deep frown. He began to cough and sputter, holding the napkin to his lips. His face reddened as his eyes shot toward me in fear and hatred. Veins stood from his forehead and his neck as I watched, a crooked smile upon my lips in a sick merriment.

At last, he let out a choke, and doubled over, falling to the floor. I clear my throat and sip from my wine, gazing at the lifeless lump upon the floor. Rosy trotted to him, sniffing his pale face in curiosity. I smiled, "Rosy, how do you feel about moving to Fiji?"