She Had Enough

She stole the gun from the safe while he slept. It was heavy in her hands; she felt a rush of fear and excitement. The handle was a dark, reddish brown with a sleek silver body. He had been so excited when he brought the revolver home, telling and retelling how he had haggled with the seller until it was almost a steal.

He was even more excited when he had pulled it on her for the first time. His smile and eyes had gone so wide she had closed her eyes and prayed.

Margo had finally had enough. She flicked open the chamber clumsily. She had never been allowed to touch it before but she had seen him play with it enough to understand. There was still one bullet. The very bullet just moments earlier he had decided to play Russian roulette.

Not that he played it right; he only ever aimed it at her temple.

Tonight there was no dinner plate on the table when Scott had gotten home from work. And to him that was unacceptable. No wife of his would be sitting at home doing nothing all day.

The loud clank of the chamber being pushed into place made her freeze, watching him cautiously as he mumbled in his sleep. When he rolled over with a loud snore her body relaxed.

She quickly clicked the safety off, her tiny hands trembling as the adrenaline pushed through her. Her short legs moved slowly as she walked up to his side of the bed, lifting the gun higher and higher until it was pointed directly at his face.

He was still handsome, even more so now, with his slightly wavy dark brown hair. He kept it just long enough that the tips hit his eyes. His jaw was wide, strong. Just a few wrinkles around his eyes.

Looks can be deceiving.

When he was angry his face twisted until it looked like he was wearing a horror movie mask. It was like someone else had come in and replaced him, an excuse he used a couple of times.

The seconds ticked by until they became minutes, the gun was getting harder and harder to hold up. All she needed to do was pull the trigger and it would all be over. He would never again hit her, or threaten her life. He would be dead.

She couldn’t do it. She rushed into the bathroom and stared at herself in the mirror. She hardly recognized herself anymore. Her right eye was completely red, the skin beneath it setting into a deep purple. Blood crusted around her swollen upper lip, cut across the bridge of her nose. She touched it gingerly, another break.

Scott’s face appeared behind her looking at the gun in her hand with undeniable rage.

“How dare you touch my gun!” He bellowed, storming towards her. He was a big man, standing over six feet tall, and his long legs made him quick.

His thick fingers gripped her neck and squeezed as he tried to rip the gun from her hands. It smacked into the ground and skittered across the bathroom floor. He lifted her into the air, listening to her gargle for air. As she raked her fingers across the back of his hand he tossed her to the side like a rag doll.

She peered quickly to her right; the gun was mere inches from her. She jumped towards the gun and landed on top of her as he bent over her.

Margo swung the gun up and fired. The bullet slide effortlessly into his body; he shuddered reaching up towards his wound before collapsing on top of her.

It was finally over.

 

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Abuse is never a joke. If you or anyone you know is experiencing abuse there are lots of different ways to find help. You are not alone.

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