Short stories

Freedom

They walked to the car with no rush. They just had received a call from Jane Garland. She asked them to come over her place without delay. Jim Hunks, her counsellor, and Chris Anderson, police inspector, quietly went to the Garland's residence. They didn't know the reason she wanted to see both of them, but they knew enough to know that Jane wasn't joking. They came to the house a few minutes later. The living room was in a poor condition; as if a major battle took place there. Near the fireplace, they discovered the body of Paul Garland, Jane's husband. Lying on his side, his head resting on the bricks of the chimney. A poker was near him. They found a piece of paper on it. Jim leaned over and showed it to Chris.

They started reading.

* * * * *

Good evening, gentlemen.

If you are reading this letter, it's because you came to me as I have requested. But when you'll these words, I'm already very far. I still have to tell you something. You are the only people I truly trust. After reading these lines, you can do what you want.

I killed Paul.

I don't regret what happened. This is a very long story that I don't really want to tell you. But I have to. For that, I must go back a little in time to explain.

* * * * *

... Jane Garland worked as a maid in one of the largest hotels in the city. Unfortunately, she earned a salary rather shabby for all tasks she performed. She wasn't happy. Her husband was a real bastard. Paul took pleasure in hitting her for all stupid reasons that passed into his mind. The couple had no children because his wife was sterile. Anyway, her husband refused to have any, saying it wasn't worth the trouble. There was no gratitude, no money out of it.

But it was far from being a paradise between them. They were arguing very often, which were leading to battles Jane never won. Even if she loved her husband, she wanted revenge for all the blows she had received. She had never been to the hospital because of it. All those details, Chris and Jim knew them. The inspector had been called several times during their many quarrels. For the lawyer, she told him about her idea for the divorce she was seeking. He remembered two days after giving her official papers, she had returned to his office with a bandage over her right eye. She told him she wanted to drop the proceedings.

The two men leaned on the subsequent story of Jane.

* * * * *

There was a time that I suspected my husband was having an affair. I refused to tell to confront him not to make him angry. I did observe how he was acting when he got back home, the time he arrived and how many times he could be late in a week. Even if he hit me a lot, I love him... It hurt me to think he could see another woman.

Usually, Paul picked me up at four o'clock. That day, I found myself in a room and I was working quietly when I saw our car through the window. I wondered what it was doing in the parking lot of the hotel at three o'clock. This is where I thought he was having an affair with a colleague. I started to laugh, telling myself I was being paranoid. I went down to see my boss when I finished the room. Once in front of the office door, I could hear strange noises from inside. I just opened the door. My husband made love with Cynthia, my boss. I couldn't move. I now had proof of his infidelity.

As usual, I went down to the reception at four o'clock. My husband joined me and we went back home. I went to the kitchen; he stayed in front of the television. But I wanted to know how long his affair lasted. So, I joined him in the living room to confront him. He didn't listen to me. He stared at me, repeating he had no time. He spoke with a nasty tone. I was shaking with rage. But I wanted to know. I thought I deserve better after all I've been through! So I insisted. He stood up, a threatening look in his eyes. He raised his hand to hit me and I asked him how long he was fucking my boss. He initially denied everything. I told him what I had seen before the end of my work day. He began to rushing hits on me. I protected myself with my hands and I screamed for him to stop. He accused me of spying on him. I managed to tell him that I surprised them by simple chance and he got far from me.

My hands were shaking and I felt blood on my face. My lower lip was split and my nose might be broken. He was breathing heavily. He seemed to think about what he would do. Me, I grabbed the poker with my two hands and I stood up. I yelled I had enough of it and I spat at his face everything I kept to myself from the beginning of our relationship. With a good shot, I lifted the poker and I hit him with all my strength. He uttered a curse, holding his nose in his hand. The blood ran down his fingers. He looked at me and called me a bitch. He kept telling me I was going to pay dearly for having broken his nose. I looked at him and smiled. I hit him in the temple. His head struck the mantel and I heard a loud crack. The blood flowed from his neck and a bone was coming out. This is where I knew that I had killed him. I dropped the poker near Paul. My hands were still shaking. I dropped onto the couch and I cried. I wasn't crying because he was dead. My tears become laughter.

What happened tonight is a mere accident. I didn't want to kill him, but I don't regret having done so. Paul is dead. I avenged all the blows he gave me. Now, think about what you want, gentlemen. I'm finally free and happy. I left the city and I can finally live my life.

Thank you for everything, Chris and Jim.

Jane Manson.

* * * * *

Chris drew up the sheet into the inside pocket of his jacket with a sigh. He turned his head to look at Jim.

"Do you have an idea of what you're going to say?" he asked him.

Jim shrugged.

"He attacked her and she defended herself."

"Self-defense?"

The inspector looked at Paul.

"Yes. This is self-defence."

THE END