Her Savior

“I need to get out of the state, I need to find a place to live. I need to… oh God! I fucking killed my husband.” She said to herself in frustration while taking another sip of the cheap beer which she bought earlier from the small store just around the corner.

She was pacing back and forth at the sleazy motel that she rented for the night. She had taken her duffle bag, and retrieved her money from the public locker. She took off her oversize denim jacket and boots and put her cap on the bedside table. Then seconds later groaned in pain, and finally, let herself take the pills for the pain.

Years of having beaten had made her resistant to the pain, she had managed to carry the bag and put on her disguise while her arm was still in a cast. Her determination was bigger than the pain itself.

Earlier she was looking for the nearest convenience store when she finds herself in a small diner. She ordered herself a steaming hot cup of coffee and pie of the day. The waiter glanced at her cast and her battered face, yet she said nothing. Not realizing that she was hungry, she eats and finishes her meal quickly before she continued with her plan.

That was two hours ago, now she had finished dying her hair to the darkest brown color. It was a very streak difference from her previous light blonde color hair. Then she puts on the dark brown color contacts, she looked at the finished result and was satisfied with the result.

Minutes later she was flipping the TV channel searching for the news, and there it was. The murder of a well-known businessman Benjamin Turner. His body was found yesterday, the news anchor stated that he was murdered. And his wife was presumed missing and had become a person of interest since there were no signs of forced entry.

That was when reality hits, and she finally breakdown and cry. The tears that she shed earlier were nothing compared to that exact moment where she was alone, with complete privacy to sob and feel sorry for her miserable doomed life.

She was crying for her future self, a wanted person, wanted for the murder of her abusive husband.

There were days where she would try to end her life, but she just couldn’t. Deep down she knows that all was not her fault and that she was the victim. That her love for him was making her defend him to every beating which she ever received.

That night she finally closed her eyes with the news on a low volume, she was truly tired from all the thinking and all the crying.

The next day she struggled to get herself out of bed, she groaned quietly from the pain. Not remembering that she was in another bed alone, without her abusive husband who would slap her when she made a noise showing off her pain.

She took a deep breath and exhale trying to strengthen herself to start her day. Months before, she had dreamt the day she would be free of her abusive marriage. But when the time came, she was afraid that she might lose her self-confidence to be independent and face the world alone.

Half an hour later she was finally out the door, she had put her makeup on to disguise her bruises and put her hair down to cover her bruised neck and shoulder. Her sunglasses were large enough to give extra protection to her identity.

That day she had spent meticulously executing her plan, where she took her getaway car from the monthly paid parking lot and carried on to several other public lockers which she hides her bags full of her cash and essentials.

It was just after dinner time when she crossed the state country lines. She had chosen this town randomly when she had to browse for her getaway destination months before. It was the average city setting where she thinks she could handle it.

She didn’t want to move to a small city where neighbors would talk. She needed her privacy, and a medium-size city seemed best.

But little did she know, that exact city was where she loses it all.

It happened the same day she arrived in that city, just after she had her dinner. She couldn’t find her car at the parking lot, where she had locked it and left it to unwind and let herself have a decent meal for the day.

Her mind was frantic, she was cursing herself for having the wants to unwind. Seconds later she was taking a taxi to the motel, knowing she had her receipt and motel key in the car. But then she slumped when she looked at her trashed motel room.

Her clothes were scattered and all her cash was gone. With less than a hundred dollars in her pocket, she closed her room door slowly, as she suddenly lost the strength to even get mad when she was once again got the short end of the stick.

An hour later, she falls asleep on the bed hoping that she would still be able to sleep in one tomorrow night.

That night was the first night where she had her nightmare. With all her insecurities creeping up behind her, she was taken back to the many nights when Benjamin would abuse her.

Flashes of images were presented to her, of how he beat her, slap her, and one day he even pushed her a couple of stairs down just because he said she was blocking his path. She had broken more bones that year and was convinced that he would eventually kill her if she didn’t kill him first.

This is too hard, maybe I should just let him kill me. Maybe he was right, maybe I was just a whore for his money.

Her thoughts were always diluted by his words, even in her dreams, he could still rob her of her value.This is from NôvelDrama.Org.

She woke up early morning with her body drenched in sweat, her cheeks were wet with fresh tears. She was holding her naked knees which were still visibly bruised from his last beatings.

I don’t think I can do this. I don’t think I’m strong enough. Maybe he’s right.

The words keep on playing in her mind until she woke up late that afternoon with the ringing sound of her motel phone informing her that check-out time was in another hour.

This is it your shitty days have just begun. This is the first day you’re homeless.

Even in his absence, he kept on haunting her, tormenting her, ridiculing her mind to diminish her self-worth.