The Edge of the World

Chapter Twenty-Nine

How long had she lived in fear of facing the end by her husband's hands? Weeks? Months? If she were being honest, she would have to admit it had been years. The voice of reason was a constant whine in the back of her mind, telling her that Tony Gibson was no hero, even if he'd taken her from her drunk father and abusive grandfather. It didn't matter that she was his wife, his now grown child bride, for since Tatum reached the age of logic, he'd become more distant and at times, hostile. Tony seemed to have lost interest in her, but after the clouds of relief floated by, the dawn of understanding struck long before she received that surreal call on her mobile.

The dark night her husband's teenage mistress had reached out to warn her.

As time went on, she felt the pressure mount and then he accidentally poisoned his fucking dog, and she knew this wasn't a game anymore. The look on his face told her everything she needed to know. His girlfriend was right, and now Tatum was expendable.

Decisions were made, plans put into place, and tonight was the night. As she stood there, in the shadows of the dining room, wielding a frying pan like some manic barbarian warrior, the air was thickening with inconspicuous poison, and she breathed deep, daring fate to take her already!

Anything was better than this shitty life she'd been given and even though there were times she wanted to enjoy her self-pity---this night wasn't one of those times. Tonight, she vowed, either of them, or both of them, were going to die and the building fear would finally shatter, letting her breathe in much needed relief.

Or not breathe. Whichever out-come was fine.

Headlights flooded the front hallway and anxiety balled in her solar plexus even as misgivings sank inside her gut. The need to live was something humans fought for. It is instinctual, she knew, and she considered stopping this madness, turning off the gas and pretending all was well until she could concoct a better plan.

But what options were there for her? Poison was out considering he didn't eat or drink at home anymore nor did he sleep there, only came to change clothes, then leave, using his daddy as an excuse to escape. This was the best she could do, and although she felt certain it was a bad idea, it was all she had, since he already made certain he never left himself vulnerable.

Except when he came home.

He always slammed opened the door, barging in every night without thought, and tonight, he would learn the folly of his arrogance.

Never act willy-nilly around a woman threatened, she thought as she widened her stance. They will take 'deviousness' to a whole new level.

She listened with bated breath as the engine of his cruiser shut off and the driver side door opened then closed. His booted feet clapped and scraped along the cement of the driveway and sidewalk, the echoes drawing closer and closer... Tatum was reminded of all the thriller movies she watched, where the woman hides in the shadows, trapped, waiting for the final kick in the teeth.

The moment of reckoning was approaching in record time, of that she was certain, for he always seemed to dally as he made his way to the door. Or maybe this night was different because she stood terrified, surrounded by carbon monoxide and uncertainty. She comprehended that if she didn't make this shot a solid head dinger, and send him into oblivion, her end might come on swift wings because he wouldn't take her attack well. She only had one chance to get it right. If she did, bludgeoning him to death with a skillet would be optimal. But if she didn't... well, ce la vie, she supposed.

Her heart leaped as he turned the knob and pushed open the door, the hinges squeaking their rebuttal at the sudden movement. As soon as he stepped in, his blond hair capturing the faint rays of the lamplight in the living room, she braced herself. She was ready, bringing her weapon around with all of her might, his face being her target.