Rainy Day Stories

Late Night Swim

           
I could hear my husband downstairs in the kitchen throwing shit around.  It sounded as if he was throwing a temper tantrum, but I'm not surprised.  I married an asshole, plain and simple. 

When we first met, he was charming with all of his smiles and compliments.  I saw his temper at times, but he never directed it towards me.  Unfortunately, this situation ended as soon as we tied the knot.  I spent our honeymoon wearing dark sunglasses -- thank God, we were vacationing in Jamaica, so I didn't look odd.

He blackened my eye because he thought I was flirting with the front desk guy upon checking into our hotel.  I found out smiling at a man, any man, was verboten.  So was looking at someone too long, not answering my phone quickly enough and sticking up for myself in any way.

I have suffered multiple bruises, a fractured cheekbone, broken ribs and a broken arm over the three years we've been married.  My family thinks I'm accident-prone.  They love the idiot, but his mother looks at me with sadness in her eyes.  She knows, but won't say anything.  I wonder if she is abused too.

I'm ashamed to say I haven't left him or even tried.  He explained in great detail how he would teach me a lesson if I ever attempted to leave him.  You wouldn't leave either if you were in my place.

But I have a plan.  It's a plan which I've worked on for two years.  Tonight is the night I set it into action.  I lay in our bed feigning sleep and waiting for my soon-to-be deceased hubby to come upstairs.  It doesn't take too long.

I can smell the liquor on him as soon as he enters the darkened bedroom.  Watching him through a curtain of eyelashes, I try to keep my breathing even.  He weaves his way to the bathroom muttering obscenities with each drunken step.  I can hear him pissing in the toilet.  He might have even gotten all of it in the stool this time.

He plops on the bed next to me.  Beefy hands start pawing at me.

"Wake up, bitch!"  he snarls.  A waft of his nasty breath hits my face.  I cringe as I roll towards him allowing him to embrace me.  I hold my left hand under the covers, so he can't see the syringe. 

He starts tearing at my nightgown as he slobbers on my neck.  In a swift motion, I bring the syringe filled with air up and thrust it into his carotid pushing the plunger in one rapid motion.  He fights me, but I don't let go until it's emptied into the vessel.  Then I toss it as hard and as far away as possible. 

I take a hit to the face before he begins to strangle me.  I need to hold on a bit longer.  I start to see bright flashes of light despite the darkness of the room.  I feel him stiffen and then his dead weight pins me to the bed.  I gasp taking in as much air as possible.  Tears roll from the outer corners of my eyes to my hairline. 

Now I need to get him down to the car and out to the lake.  My hubby is going to swim with the fishies.