Do You Want to Know? - Hazbin Hotel

Chapter 22: Stab

It was a pretty quiet evening at the bar, Angel had somehow gotten the day off of work. It gave him some time to recover from his injuries, which was a blessing. Without much else to do, Husk decided to listen in on the conversation unfolding in front of him. When he heard the content matter, he thought to himself, this'll be good.

"Okay, but if you wanna know, I have to set the scene! And no interrupting."

"Alright, alright, I'll be quiet."

"So it starts, I dunno, towards the end of the 1940's, maybe?"

We met when I was young, about 16, I think. I'd lived in my hometown for my whole life, but he had only just moved there. He was older than me, a lot older. Almost twice my age. But he was exactly my type. A bad boy. The kind that broke the rules, that did what everyone said not to. The kind that snuck around behind your house late at night to throw pebbles at your window even though he knew he wasn't supposed to be there. The kind that would wink at you from across the church during the service just so you'd blush, or secretly stick a tiny note in your hand with the address he'd wait for you at later on...

He took a liking to me just as fast as I did to him. It started with a couple of glances and smiles, but it wasn't long before I started skipping school just to spend the day with him. My Ma didn't like it, but Daddy didn't mind. He said it was good that I'd found myself a man so early in life. I dropped out of school before I finished, there wasn't much reason to have a diploma when I already knew what I was going to do. I was going to be a wife.

It was great at first. We got married when I was 17 and my Daddy helped us buy a nice house across town. It wasn't big or fancy, but I loved it. I loved everything about our house when we first moved there. The floors, the rooms, the garden, the kitchen, the huge, beautiful windows. I loved it because it was mine. It was ours.

My husband was so kind in the beginning. He was that flirty, confident, charming man that moved into town from far away and swept me off my feet. But slowly, he became someone else. Someone less kind. Someone that was still fun and charming when there were other people around, but at home it was different.

It was like there were two different versions of him, and everyone but me got the good one. The one that was funny and kind. It was so strange, seeing the way everyone loved him. The way they spoke about him like he was the best man alive, how they complimented me on my 'catch' of a husband. They loved him the way I did before, not seeing the other side. The other side was... Not great.

My husband, at home, was angry. At just about everything. At the neighbors (they're watching us, I swear). At the dog (if you don't get that fucking thing out of my way, I'll put it out on the curb). At me (What the fuck were you talking about with him? It doesn't take that long to get the fucking mail).

I did my best to hold my tongue, but sometimes I spoke out of turn. And when I did, he went from yelling to hitting. He didn't hold back either. I wasn't allowed to leave the house without him, so he didn't care where the bruises landed. I had a black eye so often I started to not recognize my reflection without it. I liked to hide the handprints on my neck though, so I tended to wear a scarf. But things just went that way, back then. That's just what being a wife was like.

And after the anger? I'd never been so pampered in my life! He would apologize over and over, cry in my arms, profess his undying love to me, and buy me anything my heart desired. He would even take me out places, sometimes. That's what I wanted to do most, I wanted to go places. See things. Things other than the view out of my big, beautiful windows. And he knew it, so that's the only time I got it. When he was sorry.