Cake

 Cake

Hannah cowered in the corner of her bedroom. If anyone were to watch the shadows on the wall, they would probably think that a monster was loose and destroying the bedroom; and in a sense they would be correct. Hannah knew the monster in question; she knew him very well actually. His name was Larry, and he was her husband, and had been for several years.

The bedside lamp flew at the wall, and shattered just inches from Hannah’s head exposing the inner mechanics; and producing a brief spark when the bulb itself exploded upon impact.

Hannah could no longer remember what he was so mad about, but to be honest it didn’t take much to set off the big man. He would come home from work and pop open a bottle of something from the top cabinet; tonight it was tequila. Then it was just a waiting game, he would always find something to get angry about, no matter how small. It happened so many times, that over the years all of the injuries she suffered by his hands now seemed to blur together. Why doesn’t she just leave? Somebody might ask her. At first, love had bounded her to his side, but that was before the beatings became so extreme. Now it was fear that kept her on his short leash.

Larry was a big burly man, where as she was very small and petite. If she planned to take him on it would surely be a losing battle. She recalled one night where he broke her arm in two places because she burnt his steak. She shuddered at the thought of what he would do if she tried to leave him.

Larry was a menacing figure. He was six feet tall and well over three hundred pounds. Most of the weight he carried was pure muscle that he gained at his job working on construction sites. He could be very skinny if he wanted to, but he had a weakness. He loved food, that’s partially what attracted him to Hannah in the first place. She could cook a huge feast, and still Larry’s appetite seemed endless. As a result Larry’s weight accumulated over the years, and now after several years of marriage his once flat belly hung over his jeans like a mound of dough.

Hannah was a pretty woman, but not exactly what most people would call beautiful. Her face was nice but forgettable. Her body was very slender bordering on too skinny. Her auburn hair fell to her shoulders in a simple cut that could easily be pulled back out of the way. It was a very convenient look for her job as a cook at a local restaurant.

Maybe if she just sat there, she thought, he would tire himself out. She drew her knees up further to her chest trying to become a smaller target. Her lips moved with a silent prayer, she was praying he wouldn’t hurt her badly tonight. She was beginning to run out of excuses to give her friends, and the staff at the emergency room. No matter how big of a klutz she claimed to be, showing up to the hospital several times a month would get people talking sooner or later.

Larry showed no signs of calming down. He turned over the bookshelf next to the closet spilling its contents to the floor. He turned around, and he had a familiar look in his glassy blue eyes. It was pure hatred although he would probably apologize to her tomorrow when he was sober. Then it was just another waiting game; a waiting game to see when he would drink again, and take offence to some small slip up, some flaw of hers. When did her life become a waiting game? She wondered. It shouldn’t be this way. The most anticipated of all the waiting games was always ever-present in her mind. When will I be free of his tyranny?

He came towards her; continuing his tirade finding some new insults to shout at her. He seemed no longer contempt by just demolishing their bedroom. Hannah tilted her head down; she no longer tried to reason with the beast. After their first few confrontations, she noticed that her begging and pleading just ignited some sadistic spark inside of him. The spark brought more vigor to his abuse, and the blows would become more severe. His large hand reached for her, he was mere moments away from causing her yet another injury-perhaps another broken bone or a fresh bruise.