The Beating

The Beating

by

Renee Exile

It was 9 o'clock and she was terrified. She knew he would be smashed when he came home. His empty half gallon of whiskey sat on the coffee table, just as he left it. Scared of the outcome if she threw it away, she let it sit. The dishes lay in the sink just as they did before she left to go to work. House work wasn't a man's “job”. He'd been raised on the mental deficiency that it was solely the womans “job”.

She had no friends left. No one to call, no one to talk about the beatings. She hid the bruises as best she could. Ashamed of the failure she had become was all she could think about. Not knowing when he'd be home was just as nerve-racking as if she did know when he'd be home.

Then it happened. The door flew open, slamming into the wall behind it. Her heart sank as he stumbled in the door. She cringed at the thought of him getting close enough to hit her. He was angry...at what, she didn't care to know, but she could tell by the tone of his voice.

He started with the name calling as usual. “Hey! Bitch. Help me get these shoes off, before I slap the shit out of you.” Knowing he very well meant it, she did it. Not because she thought he was “boss”, but because she had no where to turn. Her mother and her were on the outs, she was tired of her daughter calling and crying to come get her, but every time she showed up , he'd tell her.... “ If you leave, I'll find you, I'll kill you and your family.” He meant every word of it. He'd kept antagonizing and continued to get even more abusive if she came into the picture to come get Gabby. So to protect her mother she stayed in the horrible situation that was happening. Seemed to be no way out. At this point, Gabby was looking at murder or suicide. Either way was better than him getting at her mom. Her mom was all she had left. If she believed he was anything, she believed he was a cowardly little bitch who battered women.

The tension filled the room, gripping her, so that she felt as if she was being held fast by invisible hands in some inescapable personal. Her hatred becoming more and more with every putrid thought of what he had done to her. She needed to find a way out. It was only a matter of time before death became a part of this equation.

1

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When Gabriel awoke the next morning, she began packing. Gabby quickly gathered as many belongings as she could before he came home from work. She was sick and tired of feeling like a prisoner in this hell called home.

Startled, she heard a noise... could it be? It was. It was him trying to get his keys in the door. Gabriel knew exactly what this meant. This meant he'd been at the bar all this time getting obnoxiously obliterative. Her heart shuttered as she filled with anger and fear.

She braced herself, for she knew that the worst was yet to come. She located her purse, yet unable to grab it. Gabby needed to make sure he didn't see it. If she was ever going to stop him from ever hurting her again she NEEDED that purse.

The smell of 'Jack' lingered in the air as he tumbled into the doorway.

“Gabriel!”

He glared at her.

“What the fuck?” Why is the fucking door locked? Where do you think you are going bitch?”

Gabby shouted, “I'm sick of your shit, I am leaving you doosh bag!”

He lunged across the room at her and grabbed Gabby by her hair, plunging her face into the coffee table. Splitting her forehead open. The blood trickling down her nose and into her mouth. She mustard up enough courage to take it and spit it right in his face. She'd had enough. She wanted him to feel as bad as she did. She was beyond the point of caring if anyone made it out alive, this time she was going to get out even if it killed her. He threw Gabby to the floor once again and began kicking her in the face, the ribs and stomach, with each blow stinging even more and more. Any place he could land a blow he did. She laid there for a few minutes in agonizing pain, but she knew not to whimper for if she did he would start his shit again. He walked off to the bathroom yelling all the way down the hall at her. “Get cleaned up bitch! We're going for a drive out to the country”! Gabby slowly got up quietly and got into her purse. She put it back right were it was just like it had never been touched. She proceeded to walk to the bathroom with gun in her hand and the hammer cocked back. She pushed the door open and Duncan says laughing...”What are you going to do with that Gabby? Are you going to shoot me? Like you have any aim anyway, You couldn't hit the side of a pole barn with my face plastered on the side of it!” He got up to grab her. Gabby squeezed the trigger. First shot hitting him in the knee cap, pushing him back into the bathtub into the shower. She shot again, hitting him in the other knee cap. He was bleeding profusely and begging her to stop. Promising to never hurt her again. Gabby calmly told him... “Why should I stop? You never stopped when I asked you to.” As she shot the last round into his head, choking and gurgling on his blood he fell slump in the tub. She walked up and asked, “How does that feel bitch?” Gabriel felt no remorse, no pain, no sorrow..... She was free, free at last.