"Why do you always do this?" She asks as his hand draws away, turning pink where she just slapped it.
"Ha ha, she thinks she can stand up for herself now boys!" He turns to his friends and she smells the alcohol on his breath. His friends chuckle, encouraging him to go further. "So now you don't like it when I touch you? You used to love me!" He gets loud at her and she's frightened. But only for a moment.
She thinks to herself about how it was before he picked up the habit of drinking. He used to be such a great man. He had a nice job, bought a nice little car. He even bought her a nice house, in a quiet neighborhood where the neighbors would come over for coffee after work.
But then he lost his job when his boss found a bottle of vodka in his locker at work. And she had to work a double shift at the local supermarket. But he wouldn't let her find a better job. He was afraid she would gain power in the relationship.
So she worked and worked but he spent all of their money on booze so they lost their nice little car. Eventually they couldn't pay their mortgage so they had to sell the nice house and say goodbye to the neighborhood.
They ended up in this tiny trailer, stuck in a trashy trailer park with a few of his coworkers. But not for long, she says to herself. She had been taking karate classes these past few weeks, learning to defend herself in situations he put her in almost every day. I'll be able to fight back now, she thinks, and he won't win. Never again will he win.
He reaches out once more, daring her to do something about it and she does.
In one swift second, he's on the floor, nose bleeding onto the stained carpet. His friends are astonished for a minute, then try to react. But she's faster then them, their beer bellies weigh them down. She grabs one's cigarette and pushes it into his face, then moves on to the next. He holds a beer in his hand and clenches it, almost tight enough to shatter it. But she tears it from his grasp and throws it as hard as she can. It shatters against the front door, sending beer, foam, and glass flying through the air. The glass hits a few men, sending them out the door holding blooding scrapes.
"Get out now!" she screams at the ones left; no longer the quiet pushover she was mere minutes before. They rush out the door as she begins to reach into a drawer.
Her husband gets up, blood flowing slowly from his now broken nose. She pulls a gun out of the drawer and he reaches out to grab it from her. She grasps it tightly, holding on with all her might. But he hits her across the face, sending her to the floor.
She sits for a moment in defeat as he cocks the gun. But a person in her head convinces her not to accept defeat, to fight until there is no breath left in her. She slowly stands as he watches in astonishment.
"You will never lay another hand on me. Or any other woman." She whispers as she kicks him in the shin then punches him in the face. He yells obscenities at her but she doesn't hear it, the voice in her head is now screaming at her to get it over with, kill him before he can hurt any one else.
She packs her bags and heads for the door, his body lying on the floor.
She steps out the door and never looks back.