The Floor

The Floor

Get up, she told herself weakly. Please, she pleaded to herself. You’ve just gotta get up.

The floor that she was laying on was hard and cold. It was unyielding, just like the man who stood over her. She slowly lifted her head. God, it felt like a ton and it was pounding viciously. She grimaced in response to the feeling and was immediately sorry that she had done so. Her top lip was on fire and she knew it had to be swollen, probably split. He had slapped her and then bitten her. Suddenly, she remembered it all as if it had just happened. She remembered what she had been enduring the past half an hour. To her shame now she just wanted to lay her head back down, curl into a ball and let whatever would come; come. She just didn’t, couldn’t fight anymore. She had no fight left in her. She was so tired, so weary. Weary and sore to the bone. And then, as she did so often now, she started talking to herself. Sometimes her conscious and who she had become since being with her husband, were like two different people. But, honestly, she thanked God for it. It was strong where she was not.

Get up, get up, get up, her conscious chanted at her again. When she still did not move fast enough, it started yelling at her. Get up! Look him in the eye and don’t do it. Don’t give up! You’ve had enough, enough. You’ve had enough!

Every abused bone in her body protested, but she slowly pulled her upper body into a sitting position. Her arms were wobbly beneath her, but she managed it. She kept going, her mind being flooded with her conscious’ urgings.

That’s it, it said. Good girl. Keep going. You can do it. Now, stand up. As she sat up she realized that she still had her eyes closed. They had been closed since she had regained consciousness. She almost began to panic when she tried to open her eyes and her right eye would not open. And God help her, but then she started to see it again in her mind…what he had done to her. To her horror she felt herself begin to cry. Now background noise, she barely heard her conscious yelling over the pain, humiliation and sorrow that was eclipsing all else in her. Her sobs wrenched through her body. She could no longer keep her tears at bay as she still struggled to stand up all the way, her body screaming at her in protest. She tried to calm herself because she knew her emotion would only incite wrath in her husband. God help her then.

He watched her. He watched her struggle to stand up and scorn filled him. The pitiful little bitch, he thought to himself. She wasn’t such big shit anymore. He had beaten all that pride and drive out of her. He had been so tired of her complaining, mewling, whining about changes that he needed to make, that she could help him. Help him? She just hadn’t got it. She still didn’t get it. The bitch didn’t understand just who he was. Well, once again, he had shown her. The bitch could cry all she wanted. With each tear she reaffirmed his place, his position. He felt renewed and she was at his feet as she should be. There had been a time when he had felt sorry for the pain she would obviously be in after one of his lessons, but that had changed. She couldn’t play her mind games on him anymore, couldn’t control shit. Now, he couldn’t lie, he felt invincible. She respected him more now. He had realized long ago that, in a sense, it was like he was helping her. Now she understood the difference between a man and a woman and where her place was in their home. She knew to keep her fucking mouth shut.

He looked down at her, still struggling to raise herself to a standing position. She was filthy from the floor and grey dust clung to the side of her cheek that had rested on the floor. On that same side her eye was blood-shot red and had a small seeping cut underneath it. Her other eye was swollen and closed shut. Her lips bloody and crusted over with dried blood in some places. She disgusted him and then he knew immediately what she was trying to do. The bitch still hadn’t learned! Growing angrier by the second, his hands balled into fists at his sides. His anger rumbled down in his belly and started to rise. He continued to watch her pitiful display. What a selfish little cunt! She had the nerve to look as if the entire world was against her. Like there was something wrong with him, like he had caused all of this. Her whimpers and hiccups grated on his nerves and his anger turned to rage, overtaking him. He saw his face mirrored in her glossy eyes and her sad, abused face looked up at him again in stark relief. Growling with horrible intent, he said softly, “You’re gonna respect me, bitch. You will.”

He swiftly moved to her side and kicked her in her right side with enough force to knock her over and send her sliding, back first, into the wall. She emitted one little pitiful groan and then fell forward, collapsing completely. He rubbed his groin in reaction to her almost prostrate body. He could feel his erection growing. The power he felt at that moment surpassed any sexual experience that he had in his memory. He walked towards her slowly, rubbing himself and smiling with anticipation. When he stood directly over her he pulled out his engorged penis and vigorously masturbated, groaning with pleasure. Before he spewed his seed onto her prone body, his last thought was, if only she were awake..he could choke her with his cum. Laughing and grunting simultaneously, he finished and righted his appearance. Breathing hard, he whispered to her soiled body, “I’ll see you again real soon baby.”

He threw one last sneer in her direction and then walked out, shutting and then locking the door behind him.

Dull, persistent pain was the first thing that she felt as she groggily awakened. Her thoughts were hazy and she just stayed as she laid for a moment longer. After a moment, she looked around the basement without raising her head and then she remembered. Quickly her eyes scanned through the dull light that lit the area. When she saw he wasn’t there she breathed a sigh of relief and was immediately beset by pain, but she felt that was still alright. At least he was gone for the time being and if she felt pain, then she was still alive. She gingerly felt her ribs to see if one or all of them on her right side were broken. At contact, pain shot through her side and then travelled around to her back. They hurt like hell but she still wasn’t sure if they were broken or not. She knew her back would be bruised. Sighing with sadness because she knew that it just meant there would be more for her to hide from people. She wanted to cry again, but she was so angry with herself for giving in and crying in front of him earlier. God, she did have to get up and get the hell out of there. Her conscious was right and she knew it. But how? Get up, her conscious yelled again! Okay, she yelled inside herself! Gingerly, carefully, she started to raise her face. Immediately yelping in pain, she realized her face was stuck to the floor. Starting to feel panic rise, knowing that if she was going to make a move she needed to do it soon, she whimpered in distress. Her face was on fire with pain and tears coursed down her cheeks. Her blood must’ve dried onto her face and the floor. She was going to have to break her connection with the floor to get her head up. So she lifted her head a bit and then stopped momentarily when her lip pulled, the pain that came causing her eyes to water. Slowly, she lifted again and her ear and hair pulled at her skin, but eventually separated from the floor. Next, she turned slightly to the left and put her hand on the wall, used it to anchor herself and slowly began to stand up. The sharp pain in her ribs stopped her from standing all the way erect. She was hunched over, but at least she stood. She leaned back carefully against the wall, using it for its support. After her effort, she was a little dizzy and light headed.

Her conscious spoke to her again. Think! Her conscious then repeated itself with a little more force. Think, damn you!

Leaning against the wall, she swallowed pass the lump in her throat. She had to have courage and had honestly never thought of herself as a coward, but with her husband she was. But she had been a doormat for too long and he was not the same man she had married. She had to get away, but how? She knew instinctively he had locked the door. He used to come back with flowers in his hands and tears of apology; with her being stupid enough to believe him. Recently, he had begun to find fault with her again and again. And with the fault, came the lessons that he doled out in an unyielding manner and there were no flowers to soften the sting of his abuse anymore. Not that flowers from him had done much good anyway.

She started to feel that panicky feeling build in her again. There was only one window and it was too small for her to squeeze through. Nor could she open it to yell out of it as it did not open. Wanting to scream with frustration, but knowing it would be no use due to the fact that most of the basement was underground, she tried to breathe through the panic. Telling herself to be calm, she knew she just needed to think. Suddenly noticing that she was shaking, she gingerly held herself, still leaning against the wall. She had to have some fucking courage, she knew, but she was scared. Truth be told, she was terrified. She was afraid that if he became too mad, too insane, he would kill her. The beatings had been happening for quite some time, over a year at least. It was pitiful, but she had believed that somehow she was not being what she should have been for him. So…he couldn’t have been blamed for his behavior. And, of course, he had been so sorry afterwards. He would cry in her arms and beg her not to leave him, that he knew he had some kinda problem. He had promised to get help. Even through all the shit, she believed him when he told her he loved her and would change for her. He didn’t though. It just got worse. It had turned into a hell that she couldn’t see a way to escape from. He had become deluded, paranoid even. He would follow her whenever he had a maggot in his brain that she was cheating on him. And that was often. He had threatened to hurt her family and friends multiple times and because of that she cut everybody that he could hurt, off. The only thing he hadn’t tried to ruin or control was her work. He, himself, had stopped working over six months ago because he had lost his position at his firm. Then and now he drinks. He was always closeted up in his study drinking and talking to himself.

6 Months Ago

He was a partner! She was so proud of him and they were both happy about his pay increase. The mansion he had paid for was currently being furnished and it was on the waterfront. Well, she supposed it wasn’t a mansion, but it was a mighty fine house, more than she had ever hoped to have. They had already attended many socials and parties that her husband had never been invited to. She found some of his colleagues to be boorish and very arrogant honestly, but she was happy for him, them, anyway.

Things were changing. For a while it had been glorious, but now he was always away on long business trips. He would be gone for more than a week at a time and he would never discuss his assignments or where he was going with her. And he would get angry if she asked him any questions. And their phone rang at odd hours of the night. He would hurry to answer the calls no matter the time or if he was in bed. One night she made the mistake of picking up the line when she was leaving the kitchen. She wanted to call her mom. A woman had been on the other line and when the woman heard her voice, the woman faltered before she really began to speak. The woman had barely stuttered a word when her husband had come up behind her and snatched the phone out of her hand. Then, he had slapped her so hard she blacked out.

She was losing him and she didn’t know why. It seemed as though he loved his new professional life, but had stopped loving her. She just didn’t understand where she had gone wrong. What had she done?

Today was probably not going to be a good day. He lost his position today. An investigation came up at his firm on him for alleged embezzlement charges. He didn’t know that she knew, at least not yet. She remembered the call from his boss earlier and cringed inwardly. What would he be like when he came home, she wondered with dread? Thinking hard about how to handle the issue, she decided to let him tell her. She would be really cheerful and positive and maybe he would talk to her, like the old days. She waited anxiously and nervously for him to get home. She truly hoped he was okay. When she heard him step onto the porch and put his key in the lock she got up and met him at the door as he was opening it. She immediately noticed his haggard and defeated expression, but smiled brightly at him anyway. He was very non- responsive as he let her take his coat off and gently urge him to have a seat on the couch. She brought him a beer and really hoped that even though he had been fired they could talk about it and maybe heal their relationship. She prayed there would be no fighting. She sat down next to him and told him she made his favorite dinner; lobster bisque, spinach and egg quiche and asparagus just the way he liked it. What she didn’t tell him was that he she had also gotten some very pretty red lingerie that she knew he would like for after dinner. He still didn’t say anything to her, but she didn’t let that deter her. She started to put the plates on the table and heard the living room floor creak. Surprised, she watch her husband walk right by her to the stairs. She called out to him in confusion, but he just kept going like he hadn’t heard her. She put down the plates and hurried after him. She squeezed by him on the stairs and hurried to the top. She got there and turned around. He was four steps down and stopped, looking up at her with a blank stare. She started to ask him if he needed to talk, if she could do anything for him, but his blank look was slowly dissipating and he replaced it with a sneer. He kept eye contact with her as he climbed the stairs and then he passed her again, walking down the hallway to their bedroom. She jumped when the door slammed closed. Her heart sank as she realized this was going to be another night of indifference. It was either him smacking her around or something like this. She stood there, at the top of the stairs, warring with herself. Damn it! She didn’t know what she should do. She had worked hard to make a good night for them. She had wanted to help him feel better, to listen to him. She asked herself if she felt that their marriage was worth saving and she felt it was. It hadn’t been all bad times. Usually, when he was good, they were good. She wouldn’t give up. After all, earlier she had said to herself that she was trying to save her marriage. She couldn’t give up so easily and remembering what he had gone through that day, he would be acting strangely. Maybe she should have more tolerance. Taking a steadying breath, she slowly walked to their bedroom, wondering how she would next approach him. When she got close to the door, a moment of indecision hit her. She bit her manicured nails guiltily while she stood there and went over in her head again what she was going to say. Maybe it wasn’t a good time to push him, she thought to herself. Maybe she should just-. Stopping the thought, she told herself again she was going to try. She stepped up to the door and realized the door was cracked open a bit. Unconsciously, she looked through the opening and had to do a double take. In shock and horror, she covered her mouth and stepped back from the door. Feeling queasy, she hurriedly turned around and as quickly and quietly as she could she ran to the bathroom on the left, right before the stair landing. She leaned back against the sink, holding her stomach and closing her eyes so tightly they ached. She just wanted to blot out what she had seen. Maybe it hadn’t been what she thought. It couldn’t have been! Knowing she needed to go back and make sure she had seen what she thought she had, she pushed off the sink with her hands and went back into the hallway. Slowly, she walked back towards her..their..bedroom. She reached the door and her heart pounding furiously, she looked in.

Her husband lay in the middle of their bed, dulcet tones of a love song playing softly in the background. He wore one of her fire red lace bras fastened around his chest and what looked to be its matching thong covering his waist. His engorged penis was hanging out the side of the thong and he was vigorously masturbating. She continued to watch in stupefied disbelief as stroked himself sensuously and then rolled over onto his stomach, moaning and groaning obscenely. He rubbed his hips in a vigorous back and forth motion on the bed, the friction getting him off. Vomit rose in her throat again when he brought his masturbating hand up and put 3 fingers in his mouth, sucking vigorously. When he took his wet fingers and brought his arm around to his back and then, she couldn’t believe it, but his hand found his ass and he lifted his hips, his ass in the air and took his wet fingers and slid them into the crack of his ass. She could take no more and stumbled quietly back from the door, covering her mouth with her hand as tears fell down her face. Oh my God, she thought feverishly. Oh my God! Was this her husband, the man that she married? She truly understood now what it meant to not believe your eyes. How had she even stood there and watched that? Had that really been happening? What the fuck was wrong with him? Was he gay, perverted? She didn’t know what to do or to say. Should she let him know that she was there, demand him to stop? Oh God, it was too much. Too much. Suddenly, she felt heavy. She felt as if the whole house and all the problems that went with it were on her shoulders. Her body ached like she had just been an accident. She was so tense, so…afraid. Hesitantly walking back to the door and trying not listen to his rapturous moans, she grabbed the handle and carefully, quietly shut the door all the way. She was sure that was what he had meant to do anyway. Her heart racing and her stomach feeling queasy, she turned around and painfully walked to the steps. Knowing she was still too tight, too tense, she took some steadying breaths. Because she could not help herself, as sick as it was, she looked back at her bedroom door. She imagined she could still see him there, rolling around on the bed, biting his lip and moaning, while he made his self cum. A sob escaped her lips and afraid he would hear her, she hurried down the steps, almost stumbling down the last three in her haste. She just couldn’t believe what she had just seen. She walked into the living room and not thinking about where she was going, she sat on the couch and sat in the same spot her husband had just sat in earlier. Her mind rapidly becoming numb with shock, she sat there in a numbed daze. She had to have been sitting there for hours before she heard the creaking of movement just above her. Her mind slowly shifted back to reality and she looked up at the ceiling, staring trepidatiously at it as if her husband could see her through the floor or she could see him. She wasn’t surprised to feel herself shaking. Suddenly feeling the need to move or just do something, she stood up quickly on her numbed legs and collapsed back down onto the couch. Hissing with pain, she flexed her legs, hoping the pins and needles feeling would go away quickly. She realized she really had been sitting for a long time.

She figured her husband must have exhausted himself. Swallowing past the feelings of disgust that arose, she focused on her legs and was relieved to be able to move her foot around without that weird feeling. A couple of moments later she got up and made her way to the kitchen. Her head pounding and tears rolling down her face, she threw away the food that she had made for him. Her heart was breaking because she knew that something had broken within her. She knew now with ultimate clarity that she could no longer try and fight for her marriage. The man she once knew had died or maybe, she had to admit to herself, she had never really known who he was. As much as her heart ached for what she now knew was a failed marriage, she had to get away from him…away from this house. She knew that as much as she feared confronting him, she was going to tell him that she was leaving him. Crying harder now, she finished cleaning the kitchen and sat at the bar. She cried and cried and cried. She cried until her tears were spent and that is when he came downstairs. As soon as she saw him she saw him as he had been on the bed. Before she could even register the expression on his face, she told him she was leaving him. For once, she was standing up to him.

Telling him she was leaving him was the worst mistake she could’ve made. And the hell he put her through from that moment forward should have broken her. And it almost did.

Present Day

She still looked around the basement for a way out that she hadn’t seen before. Her conscious was uncharacteristically pessimistic and said to her, You know this basement really well now. There is no other way out. You’re trapped.

She argued with her conscious feverishly, covering her ears with her hands as if to shut out what her conscious had said, No, no, no! Don’t you tell me that! Not you. I depend on you. Depend on you to give me what I need! What I need to get through..this. Tell me something good please. Please! What do I do?

Trying to get a hold of herself, she breathed deeply again, thankful for her good work friend’s coaching. The breathing techniques helped her a lot. After she felt calmer, she said aloud to herself, “There has to be a way.”

She tried in vain to remember the Lord’s Prayer, but she could only remember the beginning. She had never been much of a church-goer, but she had tried to rectify that. When she had wanted to try and find a church home to attend on a regular basis he had said that church was full of nothing but hypocrites and that they didn’t need to be around any nosey, old biddies. And, unfortunately, she hadn’t dared argue.

Not too long later she was strong enough to move away from the wall. She still hurt, but she had wasted enough time resting already. Besides, she had to stop being so weak. She’d been doing that for far too long. Besides, she kept surprising herself with the will to go on and waiting for a way to possibly leave him. She had already set up an account of her own at a different bank from the one they had their joint account with. It had been a risk, but she knew she would need money and a way to independently access it if she ever came across a safe way to leave him. She leaned against the wall just a moment longer and prayed that she would finally have the courage to end this. She really felt like she was in danger of losing her life if she stayed here any longer. Honestly, she didn’t know how much longer her body could take the abuse anyway. Last time he had broken her ribs had not been too long ago. He had forbidden her to go to the hospital and eventually she had passed out at work due to an infection. Then, she was rushed to a hospital. The emergency doctor had told her then that her body would be in a serious state of recovery and due to such she could be susceptible to many illnesses. She was supposed to have rested her body for 30 days and then go back for a recheck. It had been almost 3 weeks from then and she was sure the abuse her body had just gone through would only extend her healing period and again be more that she had to cover up.

Grunting, she pushed her body forward with her elbow and stood fully erect for a moment, trying to take stock of what injuries she had. When she slightly twisted to the side to look down at something on her pants, the sharp pain that rent through her side and up her back was so white hot and intense, she fell to her knees, her hands breaking her fall. She moaned in agony and stayed there in that position just trying to catch her breath from the onslaught of pain. What the fuck, she thought? Fear started to creep into her heart when she remembered her ribs had taken another beating. God, she needed help. Tears streamed down her face as she continued to try and breathe through the pain. Get up now, her conscious told her. Ignoring it, knowing it would be crazy to be getting upset with her own conscious, she took her time. And when she felt little to no pain, just discomfort, she lifted herself up into a sitting position and almost crumpled over again as a sharp pain ran through her again. Grimacing, she held her middle tightly with her arms and lifted herself up with her legs, whimpering with pain. Hating her luck, she continued to hold herself and shuffled slowly around the basement. Trying to think past the pain that was intense enough to make her teeth chatter, she looked in the corners, through all the stuff that was piled up in them. Crying softly, she looked under the huge record player and table her husband had. Still not finding anything that would help, she looked around in frustration and then looked back at the record player. She noticed what looked like a tool box resting underneath it. Gingerly bending down, not over, she lifted the tool box with her good side and carried it over to a table. Her heart beat rapidly again with hope…even if just a glimmer…she would take that. Surely there would be something in there she could use. She opened it and at first all she saw was what looked like tons and tons of all different sizes of gleaming nails or bolts or something. Slowly she dug through the box, trying not to make much noise and wondering just what she was looking for anyway. Then it hit her! Hammers! Hammers were in toolboxes and she could use that. Digging deeper into the big toolbox she finally felt it. Pulling it up out from under the other tools, she also knew if she had to she could use it as a weapon. At that thought, she closed the toolbox and carried it back to its resting place. Breathing shallowly due to the piercing pain in her side, she laboriously made her way to the steps that led to the door upstairs. She was almost there when she ran into a can of paint that sat right before the stairs. Losing her footing slightly, she reached out to catch the edge of the wall and stumbled into the wall, luckily on her left side. Her back was stinging from the impact, but she tried to pay it no mind and listened carefully for footsteps from upstairs. When she had hit the can it hadn’t been super loud, but it damn sure had made noise. Now the can was resting right by the wall on its side. Glaring at the can viciously, she continued to listen and heard nothing. If he had heard, he would’ve already been at the door, she was sure of that. Breathing a sigh of relief, she moved forward and turned back towards the steps. Was she climbing to her death or was she going to be able to make it? The door seemed as high as Mount Everest at that moment. At least thankful that the steps were made of stone and not wood, she climbed the steps. By the time she reached the top she was sweating. Her side and her back, not to mention her face were throbbing with pain. She carefully leaned against the door and catching her breath, listened again. Her ears pricked suddenly when she heard wood creaking, but it sounded like he might be closer to the opposite end of that side of the house. Knowing she didn’t have a lot of time, she stood up as straight as she could and looked at the hammer. At least if he did come at her she could knock him across the face with it, if nothing else. Ignoring a little smidgeon of guilt that crept into her heart, she reminded herself that if she had to do it, then… He was her husband and she had no doubt anymore that he could kill her. That if she didn’t get out of this house and away from him, she would die.

He gazed out of the upstairs study window. His left hand hung limply by his side and his right arm lay against the window, loosely holding a 9mm pistol. He began to lightly stroke the gun back and forth across the window’s surface. His face was blank, but his eyes were filled with unshed tears. She had to die. And he hated her for that fact. She was making..making him have to do this. Then, for a second, he wondered wildly if maybe he had slightly taken leave of his senses, but almost immediately he blocked that thought out. It wasn’t him that was insane…unhinged, it was her. And she was manipulative. Even now, when she wasn’t with him, she was making him think everything was his fault. Where was her undying love? The fucking whore. She was supposed to love and obey him. She had never been meek enough for him, but he had oddly been attracted to that and he had felt she would learn to be more submissive. But she was the kind of female who asks questions, who wanted explanations. Her mind was always working and trying to dissect him. She wanted to control him. Control everything. And now that she still had her job and he had lost his, he was sure she was secretly laughing at him. The bitch. Well, he thought to himself, he was the man of the household and their glorious home had been bought with his money. And with injured dignity now coursing through his veins, he reminded himself that she would have nothing without him. He had loved her once, he had when she had still been new, exciting and oh so sexy. She had been so hot. But now she had become his drudge. She was always tired or wounded. And then she had begged him for a child. Remembering that night, he should have known when she had asked him about children. Well, he had fixed that, he remembered with glee. The bitch had been happy, no, ecstatic about her little announcement. Later, he also remembered her face as she cried and glared at him accusingly in the downstairs bathroom mirror. His lesson had almost disfigured her face. As soon as she had gotten her ‘special announcement’ out, he had punched her in the stomach so hard she had lost her breath. He remembered watching her collapse to the floor and curling into a tight little ball as if that could shield her from him.

“You stupid little bitch! What made you think that I’d want to have a baby with your stupid ass? I can’t even take you around my business associates with your fucked up face and you standing there staring off into space. They think you’re dumb or retarded! And, you know what, that’s what you are. You’re not good enough to have my baby. You’re not high class anymore, toots.” He waited impatiently for her to say anything, move, something. Curiously he bent down and looked into her face. Blood was trickling out the side of her mouth and her eyes had a glassy look that somehow pricked his conscience. Knowing she would back whatever story he gave the hospital, he called 911.

While he waited he watched her and noticed blood was pooling around her hips and legs. He felt numb as he watched what was supposed to be his baby spread out further and further until it almost touched his feet. The rich red blood meant nothing to him as it pooled almost eagerly towards him. He knew that it should, but he felt nothing. Nothing. He looked full at her and his heart started to thud painfully. He did not want her to die, that hadn’t been his intention. But then he thought, what would he do if she did die? If the police weren’t coming he supposed he would just have to dispose of her body and come up with some kind of story. But they were coming and now he could hear them. All he knew was, she better not die on him.

He shook his head to rid himself of his memories. He realized now what he hadn’t back then…he should have let her die. She wasn’t right for him, had never been really. He defined her so if she wasn’t with him, why should she live? But then he thought, if she were gone he would be alone. Surprised that he had thought about being alone, he laughed at himself. Who gave a fuck about being alone. He’d be a bachelor again and have his pick of the litter. He didn’t need her. But, just as quickly, he also considered the loss of income. She had been allowed to work after all and he had to admit they had needed her income. Again, quickly he rallied himself. Some firm was sure to see what a prize he was and there he’d be again, back on top.

He deliberated a bit longer on his financial problems and then his thoughts meandered down a darker bent again. What would it feel like when he killed her, he wondered? Perversely, he hoped she would beg. At that image in his mind, he started to pant a little. He could feel himself growing hard. His head slowly fell forward as mental pictures of her anguish fueled his desires and he jacked himself off so hard his knees buckled. Yes, she would die with his name on her lips.

She gripped the hammer more firmly in her hand. Unconsciously her bleeding and bruised face became set with resolve. She fit the two teeth on the hammer into the slight gap in between the door and doorknob. She pulled the hammer back and grimaced with her effort to separate the two without making any noise. She tried for a few moments but it just wasn’t separating all the way. She felt a moment of petrified dread as she realized she would have to knock the door knob a little bit with the hammer. She could only hope that she was right and he wasn’t close to the door. She raised her hand to bring the hammer down on the knob when suddenly the doorknob began to jiggle as if someone were unlocking the door. She inadvertently gasped a little and stepped back. The jiggling stopped. Her heart thundered in her chest. Damn it, she thought wildly! He had heard her! Her mind raced furiously. Should she run down the steps? She started to turn around and then the door was yanked open and there, right before her eyes stood her enraged husband.

Before she could even think about it she raised the hammer and slammed it into his face by his left cheek. He screamed a shrill scream as much from pain as shock. He slammed back against the door and then backed into the edge of one of the counters in the kitchen. She quickly hobbled past him and ran towards the living room as fast as she could. She heard him scream again and she heard him spitting. She hoped all his damn teeth were smashed.

She knew it would not be long before he got it together enough to come after her. She was nearing the foyer and could almost reach out to touch the front door when she heard him collide with the edge of the wall at the end of the living room. She glanced back furtively and saw him regain his balance.

“Oh, Lord Jesus!” she cried aloud as she stumbled upon the front door and fumbled for the doorknob, her side throbbing with pain. “Please,” she sobbed. “Please.”

“Bitch,” he spat out, splattering blood from his mouth onto the back of her neck! He was not surprised that she froze when she knew he was upon her. She still knew her place. He pulled his gun from the waistband of his pants and rubbed it back and forth on the back of her neck. He felt her shaking, trembling with fear. He felt amazed at that moment because as much as he was in pain by her hand and as much as he was sure he hated her, right now, at this moment…he wanted her. He could feel his erection growing. He slowly leaned further into her and sniffed her hair, ignoring the blood pouring from his mouth. Then, he leaned his hard dick against her ass and grinded against her. He buried his face in her neck, licking and sucking the blood that he had spat on her. And for the first time in a long time, he spoke her name.

“Laiza.” He repeated her name over and over as if a litany. He had to take the bitch. He was so excited by her trembling, her fear of him. Maybe, just maybe he would be kind to her and fuck her to death.

Laiza lay pinned against the door trying to keep a grip on her sanity. Oh, how she loathed his touch, his scent. But it was as if she had paralysis. Where was her earlier gusto? Why wasn’t he beating her to death? Why didn’t he shoot her and why now would he show any sexual bent towards her when he hadn’t touched her in almost 7 months? Panicking, she screamed inside herself. Help! Help me!

Oh no! Fight him. Fight him! You have to! You’re right here. You’re right at the door. I know it hurts, but you have to fight him or you’ll never get out that door. Her conscious yelled at her and she yelled right back, I’m afraid! I’m so scared he’ll hurt me..kill me.

She felt a sharp pain on the side of her neck and realized he had bitten her, was biting her. At that terrible moment she felt a hysterical giggle bubble up inside her. Swallowing it and trying to hold onto her sanity, she knew she had to try and find a way to use this situation, to maybe make it work in her favor. She had to! She felt him pull up her shirt and then his clammy hands were on her skin, caressing her back. Crying inside herself, she wanted to turn around and bite, claw and kick at him. Oh God! She hated him..h-his touch, his everything. No, no, no, she cried inside herself. Don’t touch me! But she made herself stay still. Made herself wait for the right moment. It seemed that he liked her to be hurting or debased in some way. Obviously, it excited him. Sick bastard, she thought to herself scathingly.

His breathing was erratic and choppy. He could feel her fear and he loved it. God, she was turning him on. She was trembling, trembling for him. He was her master and he knew now what he had to do. His little bitch, he thought to himself gleefully. He would fuck her to death. To death, he said over and over in his mind. To death.

Laiza could almost feel him panting as he put his lips to her back. He was almost mewling in his excitement. Dear God, she was terrified. Who was this animal? Her breath caught in her throat as he reached around her middle and unsnapped her pants. One of his hands grabbed her hair and pulled it roughly so that her head was tilted backward painfully. She bit her lip to keep from crying out. His other hand worked its way into her jeans and started rubbing her intimately. He was hurting her. Not able to help the tears that drained from her eyes, she winced and cringed with pain and discomfort as he rubbed roughly on her clitoris. He found her opening and pushed three fingers inside of her. She cried out in agony. She couldn’t bear this anymore, she thought feverishly.

“You know now, don’t you?” he whispered feverishly to her. “Say it to me, Laiza.” When she didn’t immediately respond, he yanked her head back viciously. “Say it to me,” he whispered fiercely.

She tried to speak, but could barely get sound out of her throat. Her head was pulled back so far her throat was constricted and his fingers were still ramming into her with relentless force. She could not help but whimper and strangled out, “I-I d-don’t..know what..you m-mean.”

He swore viciously and ripped his fingers out of her. “Turn around you bitch,” he yelled! He yanked her around to face him.

She stared at him with exhausted fear. His veins in his face were mottled and large. They were popping out of his forehead as he continued to scream at her.

“I am your owner, you bitch!” His voice got even louder. “Bitch!” Then he leaned so close to her that she could feel his breath, his eyes looking feverish and overly bright, boring into her own. His voice dropped to a dramatic whisper and he advised, “You’re going to beg.” He nodded his head up and down as if to reaffirm what he was saying. “You are baby. You’re going to beg me to give it to you. And then…you’re going to beg me to stop.” She watched with bated breath as he slowly brought his face even closer to hers and then put his forehead on hers. “But I won’t stop, Laiza. Oh no. I won’t stop until your blood is all over me.”

She watched his sick, enraptured face. He meant every word he was saying. In her heart it was like a gong had been hit and the sound reverberated all throughout her body. She went cold on the inside. And then he started to lean his face against her lips. She waited. He touched his lips to hers. Still, she waited. Suddenly, passion overtook him. He grabbed her face with both of his hands, digging his nails into her cheeks and smashed his lips on hers. His eyes were closed.

Now, she screamed at herself! Now was the time. So, she brought her arms around his neck as if his kiss had also impassioned her. She held him close to her, moaning softly against his lips. She held him even tighter and then kneed him in his groin with all the strength she had. When he screamed into her mouth, she bit down hard on his lip and glared coldly into his pain-struck eyes. She held him to her as hard as she could and bit his lip harder. She kneed him in his groin again and again while she tore at his lip with her teeth. Finally, his sagging body was too much for her hold and he started to fall. Half of his lip ripped off in her teeth, the sound of the flesh ripping stained her ears as he crashed to the floor. She immediately spit his flesh out of her mouth and started to kick him in his side. She cried and laughed at the same time as his body started convulsing and jerking. She stomped her foot on the hand that was covering his privates and ground her heel on it. He screamed shrilly and tried to talk, but his teeth just chattered. And that just fueled the fury that enveloped her even more. She kicked him choppily in the face, almost losing her balance. Screaming with rage and so much pain, she kicked him in his face again. This time blood squirted out of his nose and she kicked him again. She kicked him again and again and again. Then, when she couldn’t hear his cries of pain and his body lie still, it was as if a demon was released from her. Her fury ebbed away and she collapsed onto the floor next to him. She was spent. Done. She looked over at his inert body and felt nothing, not even relief. Just a big black pool of nothingness. He lay there in his blood and it began to pool around them. She didn’t even know if he was dead or not and…she didn’t care. She just didn’t care anymore. She was free.

She slowly stood up, kicked his arm out of the way and gingerly walked to the door. She opened it and the blinding sunlight beamed in through the opening and enveloped her in warmth. Feeling one last moment of hesitation, she looked back at his body...stared at his blood still pooling around him on the floor. She shook herself, turned around and walked into the sunlight.

THE END

THE END