WARNING! THIS STORY IS IN NO WAY A HAPPY STORY. IT CONTAINS GRAPHIC VIOLENCE AND VULGAR LANGUAGE, AND MAY BE VERY DISTURBING AND DARK. SO IF YOU DON'T THINK YOU CAN HANDLE THAT, PLEASE DO NOT READ THIS.
Pulling the key out of the lock, Hannah slowly twisted the brass doorknob and opened the door. She entered and shut the door behind her before placing her keys back into her purse and taking off her shoes. Humming her favorite song, she began to make her way to her bedroom, but stopped just as she neared it. Her eyebrows scrunched in confusion as she just stood there, frozen, and listened. The door was closed, but the sounds of panting and moaning were unmistakable.
Quickly, she burst through the door, only to see Clint--her husband--and some stranger tangled up in the sheets of their bed, completely naked. All she could do was stand there, shocked, unable to comprehend what was happening. Then Clint and the slut snapped their heads up to look at her, horror written all over the woman's face, but absolutely nothing on Clint's. Rage bubbled up inside Hannah before she finally got a hold of herself and bellowed,
"CLINT MACKENZIE, GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY HOUSE, AND TAKE YOUR WHORE WITH YOU!"
This wasn't the first time he'd cheated. She'd turned her cheek on the countless other times because somehow Clint had sweet-talked her into staying with him. But not now. Not anymore. She was sick of him and his unfaithful ways, and honestly, she no longer wanted anything to do with him.
Quickly, the terrified woman rolled away from Clint and rushed to gather her clothes and put them on. Clint, on the other hand, just slowly got up and merely put his boxers on. He meandered up to Hannah, looking like a lion stalking his prey as he did so, and she tensed as he neared. The look in his eyes was like those of a monster, and she had to fight the urge to cower away in fear. It was like she was seeing a completely new side to him; prickling tears blurred her eyes at the realization.
"I am kicking you out, and I want a divorce," she said, trying to keep her voice firm.
Narrowing his eyes, he replied menacingly, "You don't want to do that, Hannah."
Again, she felt anger at his words and spat back, "Yes, I do. In fact, I've wanted to for a very long time. Now get out!"
"And what about the kids?" he asked coldly.
That stopped her dead in her tracks. What about the kids--her three gorgeous daughters? How would they react when they found out their father would not be living with them anymore, and they would be seeing him much less from now on? Sadness filled her at the thought of their devastated faces once she would break the news. Before, she supposed part of the reason she'd forgiven him in the first place was because of the kids. However, now, when she had the choice of either staying with an unfaithful husband or being a single mother, she found that she just could no longer bear the thought of the former.
Finally, she looked up into his eyes--which seemed almost full of...hate. Had he always been like this? How could she not have noticed before?
"I don't know," she whispered, "But I want you to leave. And I don't want you to come back until I--until we are ready to talk to you."
He just stood there blinking and staring at her for what seemed like a full minute, before finally he snarled, lifted his hand up and swung it toward her. She screamed, but was grateful when it didn't come in contact with her face but instead with the wall next to her. A loud crack sounded through the room, and she found she couldn't do anything but stand there dumbfounded as he turned around, picked up his remaining clothes on the floor, and stormed out of the house.
It wasn't until she heard the door slam and his truck rev up and speed away that she turned her head to inspect the damage he'd caused.
There, only about a millimeter from where her face had been, was a huge, gaping hole in the wall. As she stared at it, she couldn't help but think about how it could have been her.
Trembling, she finally found the strength to move away, and as she did so, she looked around the room. Everywhere, there were reminders of him. She needed to get rid of them. So she got to work, throwing out all of Clint's stuff one by one onto the front lawn, thinking, "To hell with Clint," the entire time.
