Beaten But Not Broken

Chapter 16

"Open the fucking door." Ken is yelling and beating his fist against the door. I am balled up in the corner between the toilet and shower, crying, shaking and I threw up twice. I am cornered in here, if he breaks the door down I know I won't survive. It took about ten minutes for Ken to come too after I kick him in the face forcing him down the stairs. Now he is outside banging and beating on the door.
"You have ten seconds before I beat this door down. Open the damn door NOWWW." He sounds like a crazy person. He is more angry now than be was before. I should have stayed on the kitchen floor, I should have agreed not to do it again and went about my plan a different way. This is the only way I remind myself. I take in my surroundings, I don't see anything in here that could help me defend myself, then I remember the glass vase I laid on the small decor table in the hall.
"8...7.." Ken is counting down. I stand up quickly and make my way to the other corner between the sink and the wall. If he breaks in the door chances are he will stumble forward giving me enough time to run.
"6..5..4.." I hold my breath and wait. A Big Bang hits the door but nothing happens, I cover my mouth to suppress the screams and sobbing coming from the back of my sore throat. Then another bang. This time I hear the door crack away from the facing. Once more hit and he will have successfully beaten down the door to get to me.
"I'm coming Lane." He says in an evil tone. I brace myself for the next hit and when it comes the door and Ken come flying into the bathroom. Just like I expected he loses his balance just enough for me to run, but not enough that he does not catch me. His hand grips my wrist pulling me back to him. I scream as loud as I can but it doesn't matter we are out here alone.
"No one can hear you Lane. Keep screaming. You think you are going to get away with kicking me in the face?" He snaps.
I use my free hand and with strength I didn't know I had I haul off and hit Ken right between the legs, he hunched over and then falls to his knees and his hand let go of me moving to his now aching crotch. I scramble to get free but trip, using my hands I start pulling myself away from him but I can feel him grabbing for my legs.
"You bitch get back here." His voice is pained.
I keep trying, kicking and hauling myself I just need to get to the small table. I need the vase.
I am so close, his hands are still at my feet but his pain is making is weak. I finally reach the table but Kens strength has retuned, he pulls at my hips then getting a tight grip on them he turns me over to my back and climbs on top of me.
"Why do you insist on making me so damn mad. I'll never forgive you for killing my baby. For making me look like a fool at the grocery store and definitely not for you kicking me and forcing me down the stairs." His eye burn into mine just as his hands come around my throat once more. I struggle, trying to catch my breath, my flying arm hit the small table just next to me tipping it over. All it's contents fall to the floor, I'm starting to feel dizzy, light headed. You can do this Lane, get the vase. I keep fighting, its then that I notice the vase has fallen next to us., but I can't reach it. I use my hand hitting his chest, he is looking down at me into my eyes waiting for the life to drain out of them but I won't give him the pleasure. I lower my arm to the side and struggle enough that we inched down the hallway enough so I can reach the vase, I hold it in my hand as tight as I can and I bring it up smashing it over Ken head again like I did with the glass bowl in the kitchen. His hands loosen around my neck but not completely, I hit him again. This time he falls to the side, I get up and hit him again, and again. Blood starts pouring from the gashes in his head left from the vase. His body is now life less on the floor. I drop to my knees and scream as loud as I can, I cry and I continue to hit him in the face and chest with my fist.
"Why did it have to be this way. Why couldn't you just love me?" I repeat over and over again. I don't touch anything once I compose myself enough get up off the floor. Making my way down stairs to get my phone I notice blood on the stairs as well as in the kitchen. Everything is going in slow motion, my feet feel like they are barely moving, it's still hard to catch a breath. But it's over. The nightmare that was my life is over. Even though in the back of my mind I knew it would come down to this, I planed for this day, I wasn't expecting it this soon. Whatever set Ken off today gave me my freedom back. I grab my phone out of my purse in the kitchen and dail 911.
"911, what's your emergency?" A man picked up. I sobbed into the phone, I need to get it together. Someone needs to come and retrieve Kens body.
"My name is Lane Wal.. Lewis. I need cops and an ambulance to Ann Lewis's farm house. I think I just killed my husband." The line is quiet, I hear the man typing away on his keyboard for a few seconds before he responds.
"Their on the way." I let out a breath I didn't know I was hold and hang up the phone, I go into the guest bathroom off the living room and pee while I wait. Once I was finished I stood in front of the mirror. Shock knocked the wind out of me, there was a bruise the shape of Kens palm on my face where he slapped me in the kitchen, there are all kinds of marks around my neck from when Ken put his hands around my throat in the kitchen and again when he tried to strangle me upstairs. I lift my shirt and see more bruise around my stomach and ribs. I keep starring at myself until I hear the sirens coming. I take another deep breath and make my way to the front door.
"Ma'am are you okay? Where is your husband?" The officer ask. I turn around and point up the stairs. Two of them rush in with a paramedic while the other paramedics stay outside with me. They take pictures first before they check me out and clean me up. There was blood on my hands and a a few drops around my face, but most of it was Kens.
"Can you tell us what happened in there?" The officer ask when he came back outside. I look at him and gather my thoughts before I speak.
"He got mad because a young man helped me carry the groceries to the car while he sat and waited for me." I sobbed as I remember the small insignificant thing that turn this day into what it was. The day I killed my husband.
"I have cameras in the kitchen, living room and hallway up stairs. Everything you need should be on them." I tell them and then continue.
"Ken was an abusive husband. He treated me decently well up until a few months ago when I fell down the stairs and lost our baby. Since then the abuse became worst. I set up cameras so that if he ever hurt me again I would have proof and he would let me leave. Today he would have killed me if I didn't defend myself." I explain. The officer writes everything down. Once we go over in detail today's events the officer puts the cameras I hid into a baggie to take back and watch the footage. Pictures are taken of every inch of our house and Kens body is carried out in a bag after they pronounce him dead. They then handcuffed me and put me into the back of their police car. It was protocol, even though it was self defence. I still had to stay in lockup at the sheriffs station until the officers and judge watched the videos from the cameras, go over my report, evidence, pictures. I am not free yet but I will be. I was beaten, but not broken. It may take weeks or months before I am free of jail, but I am free of Ken.