Hi friends, today’s writing prompt is “I’ve lost count of the promises I’ve broken for you” – it is a bit darker than what I normally write. I’m trying to get out of my comfort zone a little with some of these. Because happy stories are easier to write. But, growth is necessary! So, here we go.
“I’ve lost count of the promises I’ve broken for you.”
“What? I would never ask you to break you word!” He sounded disgusted that I would even suggest it.
“No. You wouldn’t ask me to. You just know I will. Because you come first – no matter what, right? I don’t even have a life outside of you anymore.” My words were bitter but I couldn’t stop them – I didn’t want to stop them. This had been coming for a long time. Years, in fact. But this latest scene was one I couldn’t put up with. It was the last straw. He looked at me with a broken expression.
“I love you, Merry. You love me. We’re supposed to be there for each other. You want a life away from me?”
I steeled myself against the pain in his voice. It wasn’t real. I knew it wasn’t real. He was the best manipulator I’d ever seen. I mean, he’d kept me tied to him for the past ten years, hadn’t he?
“I don’t know what love is. I don’t think you do either. When was the last time you were there for me, anyway?” I wrapped my arms around myself as he came closer, putting his hand on my arm.
“I was there that time you broke your collarbone, remember babe? I took you to the hospital and stayed with you the whole time.” I nodded in remembrance. He’d broken it in one of his rages. I didn’t say anything about that though, just took a step back out of his reach.
“You’re possessive and I’m your lapdog. I come every time you call. I can’t take it anymore Frank. I just can’t.” My voice broke and I rubbed my forehead, wishing this was already over.
If I had been watching, I would have seen the look in his eyes. I knew better than to close my eyes when he was in the same room – I’d learned that in the first six months. The back of his hand caught my cheekbone, snapping my head to the side. I caught myself on the side table, waiting for the next blow. When it didn’t come, I turned. Frank had sat on the sofa, his head in his hands. I slowly reached for my phone, keeping an eye on him. I hit speed dial 6, and wrapped my hand around the other item in my jacket pocket. As I waited, the shakes started. His forced sobs filled the room and I knew I was supposed to go comfort him. Apologize. But I couldn’t do it – wasn’t I supposed to be breaking free from him? Instead, I spoke the words I’d practiced hundreds of times, through chattering teeth.
“It’s over, Frank. Your lying and manipulating days are over. I’m leaving.”
He stood up in a rage but stopped when he saw the gun in my hand. I held it straight at his heart, calmly, as if my own heart wasn’t pounding so hard I was sure he’d hear it. “Put that thing down, babe. You’re gonna hurt somebody.” His wheedling tone belied his stress. And I exulted in it.
“The only one who’ll get hurt is you, if you get any closer to me.” I willed the doorbell to ring, the gun was already starting to get heavy.
Frank side-stepped toward me with his hands outstretched, “Give it to me. Now.” His tone was hard.
Before I even thought about it, I shot him in the knee. He fell instantly, yelling in pain. Just as he lunged for me, the front door burst open and salvation arrived in the form of a new friend of mine – a police officer and her partner.
“Babe, tell them it’s just a misunderstanding.” He ordered me to lie, still not considering that I wouldn’t do it. His control over me had been complete. But no longer.
I smiled. “I told you, I won’t break any more promises for you. And I promised myself I’d see you dead, or in jail. Take your pick.”
Come back next week for a review on Eight Cousins by Louisa May Alcott.