Well, I would like to start off with explaining how this story is a monologue of a young woman who is a victim of abuse. As you will see, as the victim continues on with her story...well...she figures out what to do with her life.

Also, it's supposed to be as if you are watching a play. Keep that in mind when you see the ().

Thank you, and enjoy. :)

It all started with eye contact.

You know? Boy sees girl at party. Girl throws back her hair with a flirtatious smile.

Oh, if only the future would’ve been so clear for her.

Boy walks over to girl. Girl pretends she’s not interested. She moves across the crowd of her father’s 50th birthday party. Boy follows, so intent on talking to Girl.

Girl wanted it to be a game, but Girl didn’t realize that Boy had other plans.

Boy finally catches up with her, alone in the kitchen. All of Girl’s relatives are outside in the backyard with Father. Boy gathers up courage and talks to Girl.

Girl falls in love.

That Girl is me.

If only then I knew how Boy was really like. How Boy would turn into Monstrous Man I call Husband. The same Man would hurts me, in every way possible.

I guess I should continue with my story.

Shortly after the birthday party, Boy asks me out on a date. I fell in love with Boy, especially when he just knew what my favorite restaurant was.

Didn’t hurt that he had class.

Too bad he doesn’t now.

Oh, I’m sorry, I’m trailing off, aren’t I?

It’s not bad to feel nostalgic for certain things, is it? I do it all the time. Rambling is also my bit, but I can learn to control that…

So, Boy finally asks me to marry him. We dated for a year at the time he asked. I swear, he was just the sweetest little thing. Okay, he was WAY bigger than me, but he was just so…boyish. Just so fucking cute. I loved him.

But I don’t now.

It’s funny, I was only eighteen when we got married. He was twenty. Yes, I was sixteen when I met him, he was eighteen. Who doesn’t like an older man?

I don’t anymore.

So, honeymoon came and went. Jesus, how he was good in bed. (Laughs) Kind of awkward, though, at some points, but good. Knew what I liked. Was such a gentleman.

How did it go so wrong?

Simple, he started drinking.

We were married for about…what? About six months? Sadly I got to meet his new buddies from work. Samuel Adams and Jack Daniels.

I fucking loathe those two.

They’d come home with him. They’d hang out with us; they’d help him yell at me. They fucking changed him. He wasn’t the boy I met two years prior.

Luckily I didn’t get with them. Fucking alcohol; I don’t see the purpose. It fucks up people. Kills them inside…

It wasn’t long before the arguments turned into beatings. The beatings turned into him forcing me down on the bed, yelling at me to spread. He would tie me up, just to get what he wanted. I told him no, over and over. I once punched him in the neck. Didn’t do any good. You see how small I am? Once you see him, you’d think he was a quarterback or something.

Yes, his ‘friends’ not only changed him mentally. He grew, physically.

He wasn’t my boy anymore. He was a Monster.

A Monster who would do whatever it took to make me feel like shit. Everything was my damn fault. Me, the Bitch. The one who was ruining his life.

I told him off one night.

“Honey,” I said, approaching him. He was sitting at the table with a newspaper in one hand and his friend Jack in the other. I told him alright. “If you don’t stop drinking, I’m going to leave.”

Boy, did I have a black eye the next day. Man, I couldn't stop my thighs from bleeding that night.

Fucking asshole.

Now, you must be wondering, why did I stay?

How could I? He would come after me. He was drunk enough to do it. He’d come after me and kill me. Fuck, he told me that night. Took out a knife and nearly slit my throat. Though, he didn’t though. It was a good thing, too...

He would’ve been dead in a second.

So, now I’m twenty three years old. He’s twenty five. He’s a mechanic; he owns his own business.

I’m pregnant with his third child.

I’m not going to tell him.

The last two times, I miscarriaged, thanks to him. Punching a woman isn’t the smartest thing to do, especially when you KNOW she’s fucking carrying your own baby!

He’s so fucking thick! I don’t understand how someone can’t contemplate that! It’s so fucking easy to get it through your thick skull!

He didn’t think that. No, of course he didn’t. Old Sammy and Jacky boy told him otherwise. While I would start crying, he would crawl over to me on the bed. He would force me to let him fuck me. I did my usual routine. I would say ‘No’.

He didn’t listen.

I tried to leave you know. Multiple times. Though, he would always find me. He knew where my friends lived. Hell, he would threaten to kill them if they helped me out again. I don’t even know where he got that gun. He doesn’t know people like that…

But then again, I clearly don’t know him.

I would tamper with his food, but I just wouldn’t have the heart to give it to him. So, I would say, “food meet garbage disposal.”

I hate having a good heart. I blame my Dad.

“KATIE!”

Oh shit, he’s home. Sounds like he bought a friend or two along.

(Lights dim and we hear a man grunting and a woman screaming. We hear a clatter with dishes breaking along with a body falling.)

“Fucking bitch,” a man mumbles and a door opens and closes.

(The lights turn back on to see Katie limping, with her clothes array and new bruises forming on her.)

You know, I never knew why a man had the motive to beat up his woman. I don’t understand how someone would have the pleasure to do that. The fucking audacity they have.

I’m tired of it.

I want to scream.

I want to tell someone.

I want someone to believe me.

I want to kill him.

Burn him.

Shoot him.

Poison him.

Dismember him.

I want him dead.

A slow, painful death.

His blood on my hands. (squeals) Oh, how nice that would feel. To jerk him around. To make HIM feel the pain he’s been giving me the last five years.

Make him pay for what he did to me.

You probably think I’m crazy.

I don’t give a shit.

I couldn’t get caught. I mean, he had a gun, him aiming it at me…Or maybe the other way around, only someone else has their finger near the trigger?

It can all be a lie. His death. Oh yes, I see it now. Yes…I wouldn’t be surprised if someone else doesn’t want to kill him. He has been mentioning a couple of names of people he owes money too…

Damn dirt bag.

I want him dead…

Oh, I’m tingling all over right now thinking about it. A man like him doesn’t deserve a life, especially when he’s ruining it. No man deserves to live a life like that.

I, Katie Walker, will kill my husband tonight, without ANY remorse.

(The lights dim while Katie is heard cackling. We soon hear a man scream and a gunshot go off.)