Change of Plans

“You deserve better,” I told myself as I took a long, hot shower, attempting to wash my abusive husband off my soul, and yes, my body.

Never again would he yell at me that I was nothing that mattered to anybody. I had fixed it so he would never knock me up against the wall and pound my stomach so the bruises wouldn’t show. I had been contemplating leaving him for a long time but knew I had to be very crafty because he would kill me if he caught me. I had been sneaking money out of our checking account for a long time and he didn’t seem to notice. A packed bag was ready, hidden in my closet. I had a friend in Idaho, who he didn’t know, who would let me stay there until I got back on my feet. I had stashed extra food in the back yard in case I was temporarily homeless. We had no children because he refused to have any so I wouldn’t have to worry about keeping them safe. I racked my brain to see if there was anything I had forgotten. Everything seemed to be in order.

But then, I had a change of plans. He came home early on the day I planned to leave this misery and saw my suitcase on the bed. Enraged, he charged me, planning to make me very sorry. What else could I do?

I took his loaded gun out of my suitcase and shot him in his heart. So now, you know why I am taking my long, hot shower, washing him (and his blood) off my body. I will take care of his body later when I damn well feel like it!