Story Time: Mrs. Stephens 10

She stalled for a moment when she looked at my hand.  I’d never felt such hatred before.  This woman thought she owned me.  Like a slave she viewed me as property.  She brought the blade down before I could strike.  Her reaction was swift.  I pushed her hand to the left and the blade struck the chair behind me.  There was a solid “thunk” as it sunk into the wood of the frame and I surged forward.  My forehead collided with hers.  I wasn’t prepared for the dizziness that came with the move.  Her head lulled back, stunned for a moment.  Luckily I recovered first and pushed against her chest, throwing her off me.  She crushed the coffee table as she fell on it.  I looked to my left and saw the blade was still in the chair.  I reached over and yanked it free.

She was already recovering.  I swung at her but she was too far away.  She looked behind me to the kitchen and ran.  I brought the knife to my left wrist and cut it free.  I cut my legs free too and stood up just in time to turn around and see the boiling water.  The fire from the blade had nothing on the true burning the water held for me.  I screamed loudly as the water landed on my face, neck, and chest.  Stepping back I tripped on the wreckage of the coffee table and fell on my back.  I writhed there in agony.

I couldn’t feel my face.  Large portions of my skin burned with great intensity from the water.  My left eye was either destroyed or swollen shut, my right closed in pain.  I felt her weight on my stomach.  She grabbed my left hand and placed something on my finger.  “Don’t worry my love.  I just have a few more things to do and I’ll move on.  I promise.”   Her voice was rushed and her movements frantic.  I didn’t know why.  I tried to pull my hand away but she held my wrist tightly and my strength had all but left me.   It took all my focus to come back to my body, to get back to my senses.  I had to be in the here and now.  I couldn’t just give up.  Not the best of me.

With all my will, I managed to open my right eye.  I calmed my breathing enough to hear a pounding at the door.  Jane was on top of me with something on my ring finger.  “See.  No one. will ever claim you again.”  She said.  Then she squeezed the cigar cutter.  I felt the metal guillotine blade slice through my digit, and watched as my finger fell from the other end.  I screamed, and Jane laughed.  “Oh you think this is bad.  Just wait till I get to our daughter.”  I tried to push her off me but I couldn’t move her.  “I’m going to send you all the parts you gave her.  That little bitch.  She has your eyes, your nose.  You’ll receive them in the mail I promise.”  I looked at her wide eyed.  She struck me and I felt a portion of my face disconnect with my head as it was knocked to the right.  For a second my vision went hazy, but as it came into focus I saw something.  It looked like a stick, my right hand was resting on it this whole time.  I grabbed it, and looked back at Jane.

With a scream I swung with all my might.  Instead of a blunt blow, I felt a sickening thud of something sinking into flesh.  Jane’s expression of pure hatred went blank.  I let go of the piece of wood.   It stayed there, as if glued to the side of her head.  She smiled one last time and then slumped forward onto me.  Just then the door burst open.  Someone ran in and grabbed her off of me.  The leg of the coffee table had a screw in it.  I had just killed my wife.  I blacked out, realizing I was now a murder.

Jane took a lot from me.  My face required multiple surgeries to rebuild the destroyed flesh from the burn.  My chest bore her name across it.  I tried to hide it with numerous tattoos.  My forearm still ached.  It never stopped now.  I never took anything for it.  There weren’t many women who felt the need to be flirtatious with me anymore.  I got to keep my ring finger though.  The police officers put it on ice and it was reattached.  The scar of the dismemberment would always be a little lighter than the rest of the skin, forever married to the monster.  None of this mattered to me as I prepared myself for impact.  Nelly flew into my arms.  “Hi daddy!”  She was fifteen now.  No matter how old she was, she always hugged me when she got home from school.  Holding the young woman in my arms I was sure Jane had taken a lot from me.  But in the end, I got the best of her.