Much-Needed Change

She knew the passcode by heart.

The numbers had been ingrained in her mind, tied to her soul, for ten years, and she knew she would never forget them. Eleven. Zero, four. Thirteen.

She typed the exclamation point that followed the familiar numbers--an extra layer of security--hard into her keyboard as little black dots appeared in the text input box. When her home screen filled the display, she couldn't help the tears that welled in her eyes.

He was smiling brightly at her. His brown skin was smooth that day since the couple had done facials the day before. He hated the idea initially but finally gave in, much to her surprise. He was so content then that he would have agreed to anything she asked.

She smiled at the memory--a small smile--miming his own easy one from the photo.

She looked at herself next to him in the photo. It had only been taken two years ago, and she could feel how happy they were at the time. He had just been promoted at his contractor firm, making almost thirty percent more than he had been. It was the most they had ever made combined. They bought their house. They planned marriage. Kids.

When he was happy, she was happy. She admired herself in the photo. She looked beautiful, glowing even, her face full and dripping sweat from the Southern heat that day. It had been so hot. Her lips glistened luster over perfect teeth, and her eyes shined like brown sugar in a melting pot next to him. She stared at the picture for so long that she hardly understood what she was looking at when her eyes refocused.

It was her now, sitting at her desk and dreaming of a time she could barely remember. Her eyes stared dully past the happy photo at her like a phantom on the screen. They were bruised and sat atop sunken eye bags that were now a splotchy purple. More bruises to match lined her neck, and she almost twitched at the absurdity of it all. They had been so happy, and the memory of it filled her eyes with tears. She took a gulp of wine and asked herself how they got there.

"There you are, babe," he said, sneaking up behind her. Both their ghosts were in the room then.

She stood up to greet him. He liked it when she did that.

She eyed his dirty hands, crusted with spots of cement. "Jay and I just laid the foundation for that patio you wanted. I promised I would make it up to you," he kissed her temple, leaving beer-scented moisture on her skin.

"I know you did," she responds, careful to say the right thing.

"I ordered those stones you like," he almost purred, unsteadily leaning his weight on her. "I'm happy I bought all that crap before," he mumbled, positioning himself better behind her.

He did that a lot now-- referred to their life together in two chapters. One chapter was before a preventable accident cost him his job and landed him a record-- one that assured him he would never work again. It was before he started drinking consistently throughout the day, and it was before he began to hit her. The other one was after, which she had lived in for almost six months.

"Thank you," she looked at her toes.

"You're extra appreciative, aren't you, babe?" he tried to purr again, but it came out a hot soundless breath. She started to feel a familiar fear.

"I--"

"You are." He kisses her again, more sloppily and on the lips. He had to turn her head at an unnatural angle to accomplish it, and she whimpered at the pain.

She had been going through this for so long now. She was tired of being scared of the man she once loved. She was tired of hurting, and he was causing her more pain each time. In her subconscious mind, he had died long ago, leaving her with a monster in his place. She couldn't be a victim to a monster anymore.

It was her subconscious mind that noted the laptop in the corner of her eye, sitting there gleaming at her. She started to ease them toward the desk, him too drunk to notice. When the device was within reach, she grabbed it and swung it behind her. She had only wanted to get him off of her. To stand up for the woman she had once cherished by stopping the terrible thing he was most likely about to do to her. She hadn't even swung it that hard.

She heard a thud and thought it was the laptop for a brief moment, but no, that was locked firmly in her hand. She looked at it, her mind hardly registering the dark red liquid sliding from its edge. Then she looked beyond it to the monster on the ground.

He wasn't moving, and she felt safe for the first time in months. It was a change that she felt from the tips of her toes to the stinging of her bruised eye. It was light, like a dead weight she had shed.

She finally realized what she had done, having checked his beer-scented lips for breath. She tried to cry, but the tears weren't coming-- not because he was gone. All she could do was think about what to do with him.

Did they have a shovel?

No, she didn't need a shovel, she thought. She tiptoed over him through her office door. The part of her mind that convinced her to kill reminded her of the wet block of cement on her patio. Her apology gift for the choking six days ago.

Dragging him through the large living room wasn't too difficult on the smooth wooden words. He resembled a worthless worm wrapped in their bedsheets and slid easily. Making an opening in the runny wet cement took more effort.

She covered him, careful to smooth the surface flat. She would lay the stones they picked out all those months ago when the cement dried.

She knew she needed to clean, but that could wait until morning. Her fingers twitched, and her mind yearned for something. She let it guide her, as it had yet to steer her wrong. She found herself at her computer once again, her hands covered in blood and crusting cement.

It was still logged in after all that time. She laughed.

"Reset your password," she whispered to no one, a wild, unconfined smile across her face. She smothered it with her wine glass, hot after sitting unattended for hours, then typed a date into the "new password" box on her screen. It was stupid, she knew, but she couldn't help herself.

She typed in that date… the day she killed her monster.