Saving Grace:
Feeling the cold metal in my hand as I walk into the office, with them in my pocket. Gives me the bravery to do what I am about to do. Everyone knows me, so they wave and say hi, not giving me a second look. The pain in my side from this morning’s beating, makes it hard for me to breathe, but I take a deep breath, walking up to his door. I don’t knock, just walk in, resolving that I had to do this, I can’t take it anymore.
I stop in the middle of the office, with his dark dead eyes, on me. I can’t process what he is saying to me, because I am just focusing on the cold metal in my pocket. I slowly pull it out, as he starts to get up, walking to me, with the look in his eyes. The evil spark, that at one point held so much love, but not for a long time. I pointed it at him, making him stop short of me, for the first time, I can see fear in his eyes that I am sure mirrored my eyes this morning. Good let him fear me, like I do him every day of my life.
“What are you doing Grace?” He murmurs, trying to keep a soft low voice, but I can hear the panic.
“I am going stop you from hurting me, I have had enough” I say, feeling the cold metal get heavier in my hands not knowing if it’s the gun or the weight of what I am about to do.
“I am so sorry” he whispers as the tears fall down his face. I know it’s an act, but I can’t help to want to believe him, but then I feel the throbbing in my side, knowing he did it and makes me think again.
“You’re not sorry, or you wouldn’t have don’t it in the first place.” I say my voice cold and hard for the first time. I take a step closer and put my finger in the trigger, making him step back quickly tripping to his knees.
“I want you to beg me Preston, I want to hear you begging like I have with your hand on the neck slowly taking my life” I declare, taking another step closer, lowing the gun to his head.
“Please don’t do this Grace, you’re not a killer” he pleads to me, but that’s where he is wrong, I wasn’t a killer. He made me into this girl standing here pointing a gun at him.
“I am a survivor” I hissed at him pulling the trigger, feeling the cold metal heat up in my hands. I look down at the man who abused me for years. A tear slides down my face as I feel free for the first time. The office door flings open, I slowly turn around and calmly state. “I am free, I killed him.”
By Jessica Webb
