"Where the hell is my god damned dinner?!" He snapped as she jumped. It wasn't his voice she cared to jump at, however. It was the unspoken words, the things he wasn't saying to her. What she thought she knew he meant to say. Despite the fact he didn't, despite the fact she was ferociously wrong in her accusations. It wasn't going to stop her from ending everything, not tonight. Not when she had already been so determined to get out of this.
Tonight it's all over.
"You're kids are yelling go do something!" He once again snapped. She hadn't jumped, had refused to. She wouldn't have to devour his words after tonight, she whispered to herself. She was already planning her escape. She had been planning for years. Planning for herself, her children. This will succeed, she had thought to herself. This will work. He will never find us, never distress us again. This is the last time I hide it, this will be my very last lie.
This is my very last lie.
"FUCKING DO SOMETHING BEFORE I FORCE YOU TO!" And as this was not the first threat, I'm sure you could accurately assume it would be the last. Gone, she had whispered to herself, to her kids. "Babies, there won't be much more of this." She had told them. Could they comprehend her words? Of course not. With youth comes naivety. But they trusted her. With every sinking word, with every failed attempt at keeping her promises, they still believed in her. And in this youth, this naivety, they believed she'd make something of these promises. They believed she would change her life and theirs. For, whatever gloom that consistently hung over their heads, they despised it. As clueless as they were, they were as haunted by it as her.
She was haunted by it.
"This is the last time I'll fuckin ask with my mouth where the hell my dinner is!" He yelled at her. She wasn't afraid, though. In fact, she smiled to herself. She laughed in the face of his bewilderment. He didn't understand what was going on, he wasn't aware this would be the last time he ever saw her.
This would be the last time he ever saw her.
She brought him his dinner. The food that, of course, she made but was somehow still rightfully his. She took it to him, steak knife and all. And even as she slit his throat, even as she hated him for everything he had ever done, she felt remorse. She hadn't brought the end, she brought the beginning. She brought a hell of a lot more than that.
She brought a lifetime of lies.