He returned with the food in his hand, I stood at the mirror staring at my reflection feeling the anger stir inside of me.
The bruises on my neck, the scar on my back down to my ass and my messed up face were all because of him. He placed his hands on me; he abused me. Never in our vows nor in the bible did it say he could place his hands on me.
I was not his child and I was not less than him. A husband was to protect his wife, care for her and support her. We are all equal in God's eyes. He and I were equals but he dared to raise his hand against me. The one he was to cherish, to love until death do us part.
"Nia... I'm sorry I didn't mean to hurt you," I heard him say as he placed the tray on the bed.
He didn't mean it? He hit me not once not twice but multiple times! Yet, here he was saying he didn't mean it?!
He walked over to me and stood behind me staring into my eyes through the mirror. I could see the sorrow in his eyes and regret but the way I felt, I couldn't bring myself to forgive him.
"Come and eat something," he said, running his hand through my hair.
He then kissed it –with those lips, he called me the nastiest of things that night and ushered me to follow him to the tray.
As he turned around, I waited for the right moment to strike. I was like a ticking time bomb; the moment I blew, I knew I would be out to kill.
I jammed a piece of broken glass that I got from the bathroom mirror when he went downstairs into his shoulder. He fell to the ground and grunted in pain as I kicked him, repeatedly. Each time asking 'how does it feel?' but he just laid there grunting in pain.
This was the release I needed, he needed a taste of his own medicine, and he needed to feel my pain. Call me sadistic I could care less; he hurt me now it was his turn to feel my pain.
After a while, I noticed he wasn't moving, he stopped grunting. He laid there motionless and he didn't look like he was breathing, my heart hammered in my chest.
Did I kill him?
I only wanted him to feel my pain, feel what I went through so he would never do it again. Not kill him!
I had been in this situation before; I can't go to jail because of him!
"Brad?" I called. "Brad it's not funny. Get up."
When I got no response, I ran over to his body and shook him. I was going crazy now. I killed my husband. This was not happening to me; please tell me I didn't kill this man... even though he deserved it.
I shook his body violently and called his name repeatedly.
Just then, he shifted his body, grabbed me, and kissed me. I was taken by surprise as his lips moved over mine. The fucker was alive!
He grabbed the back of my neck trying to deepen the kiss and I pushed him back, breaking contact.
"This doesn't mean we're fine," I grunted out, hating how even after his abuse my body almost reacted to him.
"I know, Shania. I wasn't myself. The speculation that you did that to me took me to a darker time when I was young. The home I grew up in that was how they taught me to deal with pain. I never wanted to be that... I–I'm so sorry," he replied and with one look in his eyes, I could tell it's the truth.
That look in his eyes mirrored mine after that day, that horrible day. It was something I was taught to do but I never expected to follow their example and commit something so gruesome.
"I understand but do it again and there will be no second chances. I will kill you this time," I said and he nodded solemnly, wasting no time pulling me back into a chaste kiss.
His form of reassurance.
His caresses sent chills all over my body and I started to respond after a while. He used his canines to tug on my bottom lip asking for entry and I gave him it.
His hands went to my hair and started gently pulling. I mimicked his actions and did the same. He shifted so that I straddled him and next I knew his hands were all over me. Our tongues danced with each other in perfect unison and it felt heavenly.
I know we were a messed-up couple... As much as I hate to admit it, I was a sucker for this man. As stupid as it sounded, and as toxic our relationship looked.
This was his first strike and if there is to be another, I'm not going to be caught off guard again. I was vulnerable once, Brad's said sprung of action shocked me into that state but never again. This showed me how complacent I became; I could not allow that to happen again.
He pulled away suddenly to look up at me, I could see the desire and regret in his eyes.
Brad then took me up while I straddled him and placed me on the bed. He handed me a plate of bacon and eggs, placed his hand on my cheek, and looked into my emerald eyes.
"I'll be right back," he said before gesturing to his wound. "I have to treat this wound."
With that, he left me there.
BRAD
I went downstairs to dress the wound inflicted by my wife. I knew this was coming but I didn't stop it. I deserved everything I got.
How could I do that to her? How could I hurt her like that to the point where I could see the marks on her skin? Because I'm a monster.
I'd been told time and time again, now I believe it.
I loved this girl so much that I can't take the pain of another heartbreak. I haven't felt like this in a long time. My mother was the first to make me feel this way, watching her sleep with multiple men for money to buy drugs.
Time after time, she would come home with bruises and pain all over. I felt sorry for her and at the same time, I thought she was a fool to be abused and not reporting it.
Yet now, I was the one abusing my wife. Something I pledged to never do.
It was because of his sudden interest in me, he unnerved me and his speculations about my wife cheating on me, it put me on edge and to see it happen.
I lost it... Just like he always did on my mother.
He abused her for 7 years, and she never once reported it.... but, one fatal day... It ceased indefinitely.
Bang, bang, bang...
We heard as we sat at the hall table eating our dinner.
The hall was small, it was made of wood (same for the house), and we had only two chairs and a black and white TV. For the carpet, we used some old t-shirts that mommy had sewn together, our pictures were mounted on the wall by thumbtacks and there was only one window, it was small and the lock was broken so anyone could enter through it.
"Open up you slut!" screamed a man at the front door.
My mom got up from beside me her black frizzy hair bouncing as she did. She hurried to the door and opened it.
"Kane, what's...?"
He kicked her in her stomach causing her to scream out in pain then he grabbed her by her hair and screamed in her ears. "I want my money now!"
My fists tightened as he held on to her hair and continued to abuse her. Why was he doing that to her? He needed to stop now!
"I- I don't have it," she managed to say.
He punched her in her gut.
"Let her go!" I yelled. His eyes trailed to me and a smirk played on his lips.
"I want it now or.... you have to trade your son liked we agreed," he replied.
Trade your son? Like we agreed?
Mom wouldn't, she couldn't...
"Mom what's he talking about? " I asked as I gripped my blue shirt.
"Your mother traded you for coke," he said.
"Mom is this true?" I asked near to tears.
"I-I " she mumbled.
He released her and came around me as he did another man took hold of her. Kane started to talk in my ear and I was too shocked to shake him off.
"She traded you for coke; see how little you mean to her. Tell him how little he means to you, Julia..."
The man who held my mom put his hands on her head and chin. Her emerald eyes bored into mine and she mouthed 'I'm sorry, my love'.
"You're ours now," as he said that I heard a crack as the man snapped my mother's neck.
I stood there shocked. My mother traded me for coke and she was now dead at my feet.
I felt my heart break and shatter into a million pieces. The one person I loved and cared for betrayed me and even though she did, I was now crying over her dead body as if she did nothing to me.
"Mommy, come back, please. I love you too!" I pleaded. "Please wake up! You said you would care for me! Mommy, I need you!"
Suddenly, I felt something in me click. I grabbed anything within my reach and tossed it at the men. I flung the glass cup I was drinking from on the plate, the small, ceramic angel mommy placed in the middle of the table and I even flipped the table over.
"You killed her!" I yelled as I went back to her body, cradling it in my arms. "You killed my mom!"
"He has a fighter spirit," said Kane. "I like it, take him!"
After I ran out of things to throw, the men dragged me off her lifeless body, moved me from the house (I was fighting and kicking like crazy), led me to a black Audi at the front and lit the house, fire everywhere.
As we drove off I watched as my mother, my home went up in flames, and from that day my life changed.