He was going to kill her…
That’s a hell of a way to start off, but it was true…
He was going to kill her, but she kept arguing, she’d had enough, no backing down. She was leaving him and that was that. His berating and ultimate demands had no effect. She just yelled back.
That was it so he bellowed. If he couldn’t have her no one was going to. “Are we in the movies? Gee how original!” He spun on his heels bolting to their bedroom that housed the safe with his gun and knife collection. She glanced down the hall. She could run and get to the stairs leading down to the door and freedom before he came back.
She’d waited too long. As she stepped out he came. “I’m going to find out what it’s like to be stabbed or shot.” She stood unsure then hit the floor beside the couch as he lunged through the living room door.
Gingerly she began to lift her head. He was standing there in triumph nothing in his hands arms open as if in jest. “Ha!” She looked at him and stood. “Now you think of that! Next time I might do something!” He was self-satisfied smiling to himself. She walked toward him, incredulous, silent, violating norms of personal space and began wailing and flailing. “You wanted to scare me? You were fucking with me? I thought I was going to get hurt. The next time you say you’re going to do something you’d better do it don’t mess with me you piece of shit, you gonna kill me then kill me…” she kept screaming at him as if she were standing outside herself watching the sad scenario almost comical not believing she was telling the son-of-a-bitch he’d better kill her the next time he threatens her or else! He didn’t even try to defend himself. Like a confused dog, one ear drooping one raised in an effort to understand the command he stood there paralyzed. He’d stopped smiling.
She stopped realizing she wasn’t even trembling, grabbed her suede jacket, shoulder bag and keys, and left. Nice day for a walk she headed to her folks’ for coffee.
“Did I really say that? Jesus.”