The Gangleader's Obsession ✔️

Chapter 3

He returned with the food in his hand, I stood at the mirror staring at my reflection feeling the anger stir inside of me.

The bruises on my neck, the scar on my back down to my ass and my messed up face were all because of him. He placed his hands on me; he abused me. Never in our vows nor in the bible did it say he could place his hands on me.

I was not his child and I was not less than him. A husband was to protect his wife, care for her and support her. We are all equal in God's eyes. He and I were equals but he dared to raise his hand against me. The one he was to cherish, to love until death do us part.

"Nia... I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you," I heard him say as he placed the tray on the bed.

He didn't mean it? He hit me not once not twice but multiple times! Yet, here he was saying he didn't mean it?!

He walked over to me and stood behind me staring into my eyes through the mirror. I could see the sorrow in his eyes and regret but the way I felt, I couldn't bring myself to forgive him.

"Come and eat something," he said, running his hand through my hair.

He then kissed it –with those lips, he called me the nastiest of things that night and ushered me to follow him to the tray.

As he turned around, I waited for the right moment to strike. I was like a ticking time bomb; the moment I blew, I knew I would be out to kill.

I jammed a piece of broken glass that I got from the bathroom mirror when he went downstairs into his shoulder. He fell to the ground and grunted in pain as I kicked him, repeatedly. Each time asking 'how does it feel?' but he just laid there grunting in pain.

This was the release I needed, he needed a taste of his own medicine, and he needed to feel my pain. Call me sadistic I could care less; he hurt me now it was his turn to feel my pain.

After a while, I noticed he wasn't moving, he stopped grunting. He laid there motionless and he didn't look like he was breathing, my heart hammered in my chest.

Did I kill him?

I only wanted him to feel my pain, feel what I went through so he would never do it again. Not kill him!

I had been in this situation before; I can't go to jail because of him!

"Brad?" I called. "Brad it's not funny. Get up."

When I got no response, I ran over to his body and shook him. I was going crazy now. I killed my husband. This was not happening to me; please tell me I didn't kill this man... even though he deserved it.

I shook his body violently and called his name repeatedly.

Just then, he shifted his body, grabbed me, and kissed me. I was taken by surprise as his lips moved over mine. The fucker was alive!

He grabbed the back of my neck trying to deepen the kiss and I pushed him back, breaking contact.

"This doesn't mean we're fine," I grunted out, hating how even after his abuse my body almost reacted to him.

"I know, Shania. I wasn't myself. The speculation that you did that to me took me to a darker time when I was young. The home I grew up in that was how they taught me to deal with pain. I never wanted to be that... I–I'm so sorry," he replied and with one look in his eyes, I could tell it's the truth.

That look in his eyes mirrored mine after that day, that horrible day. It was something I was taught to do but I never expected to follow their example and commit something so gruesome.