Welcome to Scribd, the world's digital library. Read, publish, and share books and documents. See more ➡
Standard view
Full view
of .
Add note
Save to My Library
Sync to mobile
Look up keyword
Like this
0 of .
Results for:
No results containing your search query
P. 1
The chains of redemption. (short story-fiction-draft)

The chains of redemption. (short story-fiction-draft)

Ratings: (0)|Views: 231|Likes:
Published by innov8ive
Jennifer lay on the bedroom floor, gasping for air. From the corner of her eyes she could see her toddlers crouched against the side of the queen size bed in fear. Their father’s hands were around her neck...
Jennifer lay on the bedroom floor, gasping for air. From the corner of her eyes she could see her toddlers crouched against the side of the queen size bed in fear. Their father’s hands were around her neck...

More info:

Published by: innov8ive on Oct 30, 2009
Copyright:Attribution Non-commercial


Read on Scribd mobile: iPhone, iPad and Android.
download as PDF, TXT or read online from Scribd
See More
See less





The following story is a work of fiction. Any coincidence to people living or deadin terms of names, events or characters is unintentional.-----------------------------------------------------WARNING: The following story contains violence & swearing that may cause offense!It also contains spelling mistakes, grammatical challenges & other errors that maycause offenseJennifer lay on the bedroom floor, gasping for air. From the corner of her eyesshe could see her toddlers crouched against the side of the queen size bed infear. Their father’s hands were around her neck squeezing ever harder.She knew she had to find the strength to fight him off or his gruesome words wouldbecome her last reality: ‘Die you Bitch. I hate you. You stupid fucking bitch. Ihave had enough. Now you are going to pay. Are you happy now. Its enough, you aregoing to die.’His face so enraged that she could hardly recognise the man she had loved andmarried and slept beside for ten years. Seconds felt like hours. Part of herwanted to relent and just die. The other part of her was a mother and a survivor.A mother who knew above all else that she couldn’t leave her children behind.‘Why’, she wondered.Why had she tried? Why had she asked? Why had she been stupid enough to stay? Whyhad she been stupid enough to think he loved her? Why had she been stupid enoughto call, to care about him, to worry where he was so late?Her desperate pleas for mercy were ignored. She squirmed and used every bit ofadrenaline in her to try and shift his weight off so she could escape and breathe.He never hit or beat her once in ten years.Hitting you see, in his sociopathic justifications, is classed as throwing apunch. And since he had never ‘thrown a fist or a slap’ at her, he argued over andover throughout the years that he was not a wife ‘beater’. He had also previouslyargued in his defence that it was her provocation that initiated the attacks. Shewas the problem. Not him.Throwing her against walls, pinning her down by her arms, pushing her across theroom and strangling her were excluded from his definition of domestic abuse. Shehad provoked him into anger and she had created the rage inside of him, shedeserved it.Sadly she had always believed everything he said. She hated herself. She woreguilt and blame like an invisible burka, slumping her posture and neglecting herbody and looks because she felt so unloved and unwanted for so many years.As she tried to escape his grip using her arms and legs, she momentarily wonderedif it wouldn’t be better to die right then. It would all be over. 30 years ofabuse and isolation had left her longing to just be numb. To never feel this painand this rejection and this anger ever again. Her inner pain was greater thananything he could lash at her externally.The panic, fear and pain overwhelmed her. she could feel her face getting hotterand hotter. She could feel her lungs burning for air. And she heard her childcrying in the background. Sobbing. ‘mommy, mommy, daddy don’t hurt mommy’.
As she thrashed on the floor her hand felt the smooth surface of her cell phone onthe carpet. she had managed to grasp it.I need help she thought. Help she prayed. Please god don’t let me die. pleasestop. I am sorry. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to anger him. I didn’t mean to exist. Ididn’t mean to ask to be loved. I didn’t mean it.From SMSing under the steering wheel, her hand had learnt the familiarity of thebuttons on the cell phone. if she could hit dial she thought. If she could hitdial someone might hear and come help.over and over she prayed in her head and cried out. she didn’t know if anyone hadanswered. she didn’t remember who the last person she had called was. In herexperience in life, the times when she had most needed her family and friends andhad phoned, she would be met by a quick ‘ can I call you later, bye ‘.The weeks events had run over and over in her head…It was Friday night or the early hours of Saturday morning. late. It had beenexactly one week from their last marriage counselling session. At the session theyhad both agreed to try. to do all they could to fix their relationship. Shebelieved he loved her. After all, he kept saying it. Why would he lie. But whythen did she feel unloved. why was she alone every night with the children. Hertrust in him and her large salary had accommodated his every whim and his utterfreedom. She used both to appease him. To try make him happy. To be considerate.To be patient.She had only asked for love in return and help with the children.The agreement in the session was that they would both make an earnest effort. Shewould try and listen without interrupting and he would ‘try’ to.From Friday to the following Thursday, she religiously made every effort to notinterrupt him when talking. While he spoke she kept reminding herself that if shelistened to his day and had dinner ready and the kids in bed early and tried toinitiate sex every night that it would be ok. She needed it to be ok.Her efforts were rewarded when she heard him take a call on Thursday morning. ‘Itsweird, she is really trying, its been so peaceful’. She had interpreted it as acompliment. She was wrong. It had irritated him that she was trying.He had been away almost every night since that previous Friday.He had told her during that week that Saturday night he was invited to a fancydress dinner murder evening. It’s a work function, he’d explained ‘partners arenot invited.’ ‘On a Saturday?’ She thought. She stomached the questions and helped him find ahat and sunglasses for the event. She made special effort to go and find the oneshe wanted. Her usual over helpful demeanour and willingness to ignore his curt andannoyed interaction with her just seemed to mean nothing to him.Monday he had called to say he would be running late because of work. Tuesday hecame home and asked if he could join his friend Jonathan at the movies.
Why do you always ask me, she retorted. Have I ever said no? Of course its fine.Tuesday he apparently had a work event. Wednesday he came home and spent two hoursreading and falling asleep in the bath. She woke him up to make sure he got outthe water and into bed. Thursday, she waited patiently at home alone with theboys. When he returned she would submit tingly be kind and listen and supportiveof his stress at work.Not once on those days did she ask him where he had been or who he was with or whyhe needed to be away or even vaguely been anything but submissive.Every night for 4 years she had cried herself to sleep. Her depression andloneliness engulfed her as she retreated deeper and deeper into herself. Shenumbed her pain with hope. She soothed her suspicions with self loathing. But shenever showed it. Never told anyone or complained about his anger or his violenceor his constant misery. She played her role as the dutiful loving wife and for onewhole week, he had not one reason to be angry with her.Friday however was different.She called at noon to ask what he would like for dinner. She always did. He hadsounded annoyed to hear from her.Is it ok if I take my team for drinks after work? He askedOf course it is. Why do you always insist on asking? I never say no and I don’twant you to ask. She repliedSilence.OK I ll be home later. He hurriedly tried to end the callWhat about dinner? She just managed to slip in.Ill stop on the way back home and get take aways. The kids would like that. Hesuggested.Ok about seven then? She askedYes seven. He snapped back.Ok bye. <click>She had bathed the children. She had given them formula bottles. And then shewaited.Seven came and went. She sat and stared at her phone.7:15 Should she call?She knew the consequences of calling. She knew it might anger him. Should she callMr Delivery.She had done nothing wrong all week. surely it would be ok to call?7h30 The kids were hungry. She made them some Milo and then called.it rang.

You're Reading a Free Preview

/*********** DO NOT ALTER ANYTHING BELOW THIS LINE ! ************/ var s_code=s.t();if(s_code)document.write(s_code)//-->