A Loveless Marriage

Chapter 29: Fred

The first hit had not drawn blood.

I had followed him on his morning walk through my gardens, stalked him like a tiger stalks it's prey. When he'd turned around to greet me, I struck. A punch square in the jaw, followed by an uppercut to his stomach.

I struck him again, the sharp sound of flesh and bone colliding and blood began to drip from his nose.

He hit back.

The first punch missed, but the second one connected to my jaw. I knew he had hit me but I couldn't feel the pain.

There was very few things I had excelled in at school, but boxing was one of them. This was beyond sport though, my only thought was to destroy the wretch who had hurt my Mary. 

My right hook connected with a satisfying crunch, my knee swiftly followed in his stomach. Not a move that one was allowed in the ring, but satisfying all the same. Daniel Mordaunt groaned and I took that moment of weakness to throw him on the ground.

I pummelled his face in quick succession. More blood. In any normal fight this would be the time to leave him there dazed on the floor but not this time. I would batter him so badly even his mother would not recognise him. As my arms tired, I got to my feet and began to kick his body. He looked up at me, gasping.

  "So Mary told you what a monster I am," he said. "What I did."

It was as close to a confession as I needed. I made no reply but the mention of her name made me feel both angry and guilty. Anger that a bastard like Mordaunt could use her first name with such intimacy. Guilt that I had broken my promise to her and exacted revenge.

I kicked him hard in the ribs.

  "You have to understand how much I loved her. How much I needed her," he groaned. "I tried to persuade her with reason, and when that didn't work, I tried violence."

I paused, looking down at the worm as he tried to justify his actions. I imagined Mary as she must have been, so young and trusting. Fresh from grieving for her father's death and her heart so open to love. Daniel Mordaunt had taken that heart and crushed it.

I pulled him up by the collar,  punching him again and again.

  "Mary wouldn't want this," he pleaded.

Shame flooded my face. I knew that was true. I breathed deeply.

He took my pause for weakness and launched at me. My blood was up. This time we were both on the floor, wild and savage. There was no pretence of gentlemanly combat, just the pure hatred between us. We kicked, we headbutted, we wrestled. Our blood smeared across the lawn.

I had the advantage of being less injured.  As he succumbed to my blows once more, I showed no mercy. Daniel Mordaunt became limp beneath me and still I did not stop.

This might not be what Mary wanted, but it was what I needed. Her pain was my pain. Each punch I gave him was for what he had stolen from my marriage.

My wife's virginity.

Whack.

My wife's happiness.

Whack.

My wife's trust.

Whack.

It was for the times she had flinched when I touched her. The nightmares that haunted her. For the sadness that sometimes overshadowed her. For her hesitation to love. Daniel Mordaunt was to blame for it all.

  "Fred! Stop, for heaven's sake," Mary's horrified voice came from behind me. "FRED. STOP."

I stopped. Panting and shaking from the adrenaline that coursed through my veins. I turned to face her. She was pale with fear as she looked at me. Blood and sweat dripped down my face and onto my shirt, leaving pale red spots on the white fabric. She looked beyond me to him and put her hand to her mouth.