Title

This story is strictly fiction. It is intended to entertain and raise awareness about domestic violence. If you or someone you know is living in an abusive situation, there are ways to get help. There will be advice regarding ways to seek help at the end of this story. This is a dark story that revolves around a very dark societal issue. By no means is it intended to be informative regarding the most extreme and tragic “solution” to domestic violence. Many solutions exist that make confronting violence with violence unnecessary. This story is violent and may contain triggers. It also has graphic content and language.

As I buried the body, a thought danced through my head. I’m free! For me, life had been a living hell. Like most going through suffocating circumstances, I could no longer advance in life without making a drastic change. Yes, I admit, this was more extreme than solutions that people usually utilize. I was desperate and saw no other alternative. As I scooped up another spade of dirt onto the body, I began to think of when life was easier.

My name is Claire Christensen. My maiden name was Baker. My dad worked construction his entire life, and my mother was a nurse. I met my husband, Jessie, while I was in college for nursing. He was a mechanic at the shop where I would get the oil changed in my car. I was taken in by his personality, charm, and sense of humor. When we started dating, he would hold doors and pull my chair out for me. Hell, even my parents were taken in by his positive personality.

He proposed a year after we met, shortly after I graduated from college. We were on a camping trip with my family when he got down on one knee and proposed to me. Everyone was ecstatic when I said yes.

We married within a year. It was a smaller ceremony, and the honeymoon was in Las Vegas. During the honeymoon, and a few months after, Jessie continued to be his considerate ’normal’ self. I, shortly before we were married, had moved into Jessie’s apartment and accepted a nursing job soon after. Six month later, we bought a house.

The change in Jessie’s personality was subtle. At first, the change was only in private. It started with him being mean and calling me names, slowly breaking down my confidence and self-esteem. About three months after the verbal abuse started, the physical abuse began. When it began he apologized and told me it wouldn’t happen again. After a while he stopped pretending and told me that if I ever told anyone, he would kill me or harm members of my family. The excuses I gave to everyone started shortly thereafter. I was molded into what he wanted in a wife. I lived the way he wanted me to live. If I did or said anything Jessie disapproved of, he would beat me. The severity of the beating all depended on how pissed off he was at the time. A couple of times, the hits had enough force to loosen teeth and spray blood from my mouth.

Some of the worst beatings came after Jessie decided he wanted children. After numerous unsuccessful attempts, he demanded we find out what was ‘wrong’ with me. The doctors insisted we both get tested, he was adamant that I was at fault but with some prompting from the doctors went through with the tests. The tests came back with the results that he was sterile. How did he take out his frustration? He gave me one of the worst beatings of our marriage. My jaw was dislocated, my jaw bone was broken in two places, and had to be wired shut. That had been only two years into our marriage.

A year has passed since that event. This morning, I woke and made his breakfast and coffee before he left for work. Neither of us spoke as we ate. Over the past year, I have learned to eat quickly and quietly. If I didn’t finish my food by the time he was done, he would beat me. The reason for the beating was that he wanted the dishes cleared as soon as he finished his last bite. This morning, however, I ate slower than normal. As he finished his last bite, I could tell he was angry.

“You stupid bitch. Did you forget how this usually goes? You finish before I do. That way, you will be able to clear my dishes and wash them on the spot. You’re pathetic! Can’t you do anything right?” He stood up and took his dishes to the sink. He threw them into the sink with enough force to shatter the plate and glass. He turned and took two steps towards me. Before I could react his hand came down hard across my face. After being with him so long, I had learned not to bring my hand to my face in case he wanted to hit me more than once. I sat, facing the floor as the blood trickled from the corner of my mouth. He grabbed my chin between his thumb and index finger, raising my head until our eyes met.

“You’ll do better next time, won’t you?” I nodded. He kissed me and turned to walk to the door. “You know the routine. When I get home, have dinner ready and on the table. Make sure those broken dishes are cleaned up. I love you.”

When he walked out of the door, I stood up, walked over to the sink, and pretended that I was washing the dishes. Keeping my head down, through quick glances out of the window above the sink, I watched him back out of the driveway. I watched subtly as he sped away. Once his car was out of sight, I waited. He always drove back by one last time to make sure I was still at the sink, where I was supposed to be. As usual, his car crept past the house moments later. After his car was out of sight, I picked up the broken dishes from the sink and threw them into the trash.

I walked to the bedroom and changed into work boots, jeans, and a flannel shirt. After changing clothes, I went to the garage and turned on the light. I had already made a mental list of items I would need, and quickly set about gathering these items. Stepping left, I gathered an eight-pound sledgehammer, three wheel pulleys, duct tape, a drill, and a large bore concrete drill bit. These items I took to the basement. From the rest of the house I gathered: a handkerchief, a long handled metal flashlight, a dishtowel, and the kitchen chair that Jessie preferred.

I had eight hours to set everything up before he returned. I mounted the pulleys on the three sides of the beam, above the area I would be working. I grabbed a rope that Jessie kept in the workshop and threaded it through the pulleys. The end of the rope, hanging above my work area, I fashioned into a noose. The other end of the rope I looped around a large hook on the far wall. I marked out an area, four foot squared, on the concrete floor.

I realized it had been quiet all morning. “This morning was it. I am through taking his shit.” I mumbled to myself as I pulled my cell phone from my pocket, opened the media player, and hit play. I placed the phone in the front pocket of my shirt so that I could feel the vibrations if he called.

While picking up the drill and attaching the bit I said, “Damn, I have missed this.” I grew up working with my hands, helping my dad, but Jessie didn’t allow me to touch his tools. I plugged in an extension cord and into it the drill. Like the garage, I began working in a clockwise pattern, around the marked area, starting at the corner closest to myself. I drilled a dozen holes into each side of the marked square. After unplugging the drill, I pulled my phone from my pocket. I pressed the power button once to bring up the display screen. “Two hours down.”

I set the drill, by the wall, on the floor to allow the bit to cool down. I turned in search of the sledgehammer. It was resting on its head by the stairs. “There you are.” The gap between the sledgehammer and me was closed with a few steps. I grabbed the handle and hefted it to my shoulder with a little effort. “Now, time for some fun.” I walked to the work area and swung the hammerhead to its center, restricting its report from losing contact with the concrete. The stopping made the swings more effective. Once I had found my rhythm, it did not take long to break apart the concrete within the square. Once it was broken into manageable chunks, I went upstairs to eat. Again I checked the time, another hour had passed while I worked. “I hope moving the concrete doesn’t eat up too much time.”

While eating, I realized that I would need a shovel to level the dirt beneath the concrete. After I had finished eating I got up to retrieve the shovel from the garage. I purposely left the dirty plate on the table, it would enrage Jessie that much more.

As I reached the bottom step in the basement, with shovel in hand, I realized I would need it to pry up the cement. I walked to the square and shoved the edge of the spade into one of the cracks in the busted concrete. As I pried on the handle, some of the pieces began to break free of their jigsaw hold. I moved a few pieces that had loosened over to the far corner, opposite the staircase. Until the area was clear, I alternated between prying and moving chunks of concrete. The dry dirt, which was once beneath the concrete, I then leveled using the shovel.

I placed the chair in the center of the void, facing it away from the beam and pulleys. I checked my phone again, five hours had elapsed as I had worked. “I better check if the rope is long enough.” I walked over to where the rope was secured to the wall and unwound it from the hook. With slack now in the line, I grabbed the noose and began pulling until I reached the staircase. Laying the rope on the stairs, I turned to see the length of rope on the other side of the pulleys. Six feet of rope still remained on the floor. I returned the rope to its previous position and secured it to the hook.

Walking back over to the workbench, I began neatly placing the smaller items on it. I went back upstairs after all the items were set in place. I had just enough time to eat. A shower would have to wait until after. I wanted to shower, but it would be pointless if things got unintentionally messy later. After I finished eating, I walked back to the basement, flashlight in hand, and flipped off the main breaker to the house. I waited in darkness that mimicked what my life had become.

His car pulled into the driveway at a quarter past four. I heard his key engage the lock, the door open, and his footsteps as he walked into the house. The door slammed shut behind him. The pace of his footsteps quickened, as he closed the gap from the door to the dining room table. The plate I had left on the table shattered in the sink. “You lazy fucking whore! You’re going to get such a beating. Why isn’t dinner on the fucking table?”

He stepped towards the living room. “Damn it woman! You better answer me! Why are the lights out?”

Jessie walked to the basement door. As he ripped the door open, I heard him grumbling under his breath. I stood under the stairs, waiting for my moment of opportunity. He cautiously worked his way down the stairs. When his foot was at eye level on the step in front of me, I began raising my arms. I grabbed his ankle as he stepped towards the next step. With all the force I could muster, I jerked his leg through the gap between the steps. I stopped pulling when his leg was mid-thigh between the steps. I then pulled the flashlight from the waistband of my jeans. Before he had time to get free, I ran around the staircase, up to where Jessie was struggling to get his leg unstuck, and brought down the flashlight handle hard against the side of his head. His body slumped, unconscious, to the stairs. I walked over to the breaker box and flipped the main switch back on.

In order to have Jessie secured to the chair before he woke up, I had to work quickly. I walked over and unwound the rope from the hook. Walking back towards Jessie, I grabbed the noose mid-stride and began expanding its diameter. When I reached Jessie, I fed his hands and arms through the opening. I tightened the noose around his chest.

Briskly walking to the other end of the rope lying on the ground, I slowly began pulling the slack from the line. Once the line went taught against Jessie’s body, I pulled, hand over hand, until he was to the bottom of the staircase. My hands gathered speed, causing Jessie’s limp body to slide across the floor at a quick pace. As his body angled upward toward the pulley, I slowed. When the rope cleared the back of the chair, I stepped forward and, keeping tension on the rope in one hand, grabbed the section of rope above Jessie’s head. Slowly easing slack into the line, I guided Jessie into the chair.

I released my grip from the side of the rope holding Jessie. Keeping tension on the rope, I walked towards the hook. After the rope was secured to the hook, I returned to the workbench and grabbed the duct tape. I placed the noose around his neck with enough slack to allow him to breathe, but tight enough to hang him if toppled the chair. His arms were secured to the armrests first. His hands I left hanging free so they could pivot at the wrists. I then secured his legs to the chair legs. The last bit of duct tape I placed over his debilitating mouth. I then placed the blindfold over his eyes.

I went upstairs and locked the door he had entered the house through. When I returned to the basement, he was still unconscious. I turned on the stereo that Jessie kept in the basement. To make sure he heard every word that came from my mouth, I left the volume low.

I knelt down in front of him. With an open palm, I slapped him hard across the right side of his face. “Wake up.”

His head slowly rose. Jessie tried to look around and move his arms and legs. He began struggling in earnest. “You’re blindfolded and your arms and legs are tied down. I wouldn’t fight too much if I were you. That rough texture at your neck is a noose. If you tip your chair you will hang yourself.” His movement stilled, and his breathing grew labored. My excitement rose with a sense of gaining control over him. It felt great. I was finally fighting back and the sheer joy I felt was intoxicating. He was actually scared. “The blindfold is to keep you in the dark, where you have kept me for so long.” I sat down on the edge of the void I had created earlier in the day. “You’ve beat me down for so long. I don’t even know if I can make it on my own. Although, first steps and all that shit. Right?”

I stood, moved closer to him, and removed his blindfold. What I found perplexed and enraged me. The look portrayed in his eyes was not fear, but determined anger. No way in hell was I about to allow him to regain the slightest bit of control. He was still hell bent on trying to break me down.

“You’re still so dead-set on being in control. Aren’t you?” I stood and walked over to the workbench. From it, I grabbed the dishtowel and the ball peen hammer. I stepped over and increased the volume on the stereo. The neighbors would be none the wiser. Jessie sometimes blared the stereo at twice its current level. When I turned to face him, I found that the angry determination in his eyes had not receded but had increased.

Before walking back towards him, I grabbed a utility knife off the shelf next to the stereo. I sat down on the edge of the concrete in front of him once again. The three items I placed on the floor at my side. “Tonight... is my payback night. I am going to repay you for every time you have hit me or degraded me since we’ve been married.”

His eyes remained defiant. I looked from his eyes down to the tools at my side. I paused for a moment, wondering how long it would take for his demeanor to change. Lifting the utility knife from its spot, I looked back at him. “Let me tell you how tonight is going to go. First, I’m going to remove your shoes and socks. Then, I’m going to start with your toes and work my way up.” I pushed the button on the utility knife extending its blade.

With steady hands I carefully cut the laces of his shoes. Once all the crossings were severed, I slowly retracted the blade and set the knife back down on the floor at my side. I turned back to face him. His eyes were still attempting to intimidation. After a brief pause, I sighed and then removed his socks and shoes. These I set off to the side on the dirt.

I then turned and picked up the dishtowel and ball peen hammer. The dishtowel I rolled up and held at the ends with my left hand. It was at this point I realized I would need something more solid than dirt under Jessie’s feet. I stood up and walked towards the workbench area. When I reached the workbench, it dawned on me that metal placed under his feet might leave traceable evidence that would need to be buried along with everything else. I turned back around and walked back over to Jessie. “Guess I’ll just have to use more force.” Jessie rolled his eyes. I sat back down. As I lowered the dishtowel, to hover over the toenail his pinky toe, his breath grew heavy. I brought the rounded end of the hammer down hard on the dishtowel. His angry screams roared from under the duct tape. I looked up to find his eyes were still defiant. “Still not willing to submit control? Fair enough. I’m going to keep doing this until you either, give up and admit that I’m in control, or you pass out.” I moved the dishtowel to the other bone in his pinky toe. The hammer dropped again. Once more, his muffled screams resonated through the duct tape, and forced air wheezing from his nostrils.

It went on like this for at least another five minutes. After I broke each bone in the next two toes, I stood up to stretch my legs. I walked over to be sure the rope was still secure around the hook.

As I walked back around to face him, I found he was still defiant. “I’m going to grab a bottle of water. Since your screams subsiding tells me your adrenaline is blocking the pain, we’ll give it a little time to wear off.”

I walked upstairs and got a bottle of water from the refrigerator. After taking a few sips, and deep breaths, I returned to the basement. When I had walked down enough stairs, I found him in the same position he was in when I left him. As I approached him, I realized he still had that look of determined arrogance in his eyes, despite the pain.

“Let’s see if you’re feeling anything yet.” I grabbed the dishtowel and ball peen hammer. Lowering the towel to the next toe in line, I slammed the hammer down breaking the bone. A scream emanated from under the duct tape. I smiled. “Oh good. We’re back in business.” I looked up at him. “Are you willing to submit control?”

Throughout the night, I had stood on a cliff, keeping my emotions in check, I had been in perfect control. This pushed me over the edge, I decided to jump off the cliff. I looked back down at his foot. Maintaining an outward appearance of control I said, “I see. Your decision.” I moved the dishtowel back a bit and slammed the hammer down hard. He screamed louder this time. Without pausing, I moved on to his big toe and broke both bones. I quickly looked up as he screamed again. “You willing to submit now?”

I moved the dishtowel to the top of his foot. I broke these bones as if I was playing a xylophone. I alternated from right to left, outside to inside. His screams were so loud, I half expected the vibrations to tear through the duct tape. I looked up again. “How about now, mother fucker? Oh, I forgot.” I laughed. He shook his head, telling me he still refused. I moved the dishtowel over to his other foot and began again. This time I did not move slowly. I quickly broke all of his toes, then paused. I looked back up at him, as a tear fell from his eye. “Are you willing to swallow your pride and give up yet?”

A fire grew within his eyes. He shook his head again. “No.” I repeated the pattern on the bones in his other foot. Once again his screams subsided as his adrenaline increased.

“Well, it looks like it’s time to take another break. I’ll give you time to regain some feeling.” I stood up and walked over to the workbench where I had left my water. Turning to face him, I lifted myself up to sit on the workbench. As I took a sip from the bottle, I noticed that his eyes were starting to droop. Not wanting him to pass out yet, I flung water at him, splashing his face. “Wake your ass up! I’m far from finished.” His eyes snapped open. I softened my voice, cooing at him in a fake sweet tone. “That’s better, don’t want to end the evening too early.” I hopped down off the workbench and slowly paced around him. His eyes hatefully followed me with every pass. I contemplated changing up which bones I would tackle next. I decided to do more damage per swing. He kept a smaller sledgehammer on the wall. I walked over and took it from the hook on the wall. Turning, I realized I would need a surface for the underside of his hands. I looked around and found a scrap board that was cut from a 2x6. With the board and smaller sledge in hand, I walked back over to Jessie.

His eyes questioned. I answered. “I’m growing tired of the slow progress. Besides, I’m wanting to really vent my anger on the part of you that has caused me so much physical pain. Is your feeling coming back yet?” I stepped on one of his feet. It felt like stepping on a gelatinous bag of rocks. His eyes rolled and he gave a horse scream. “Looks like we need a few more minutes.” I backed up and leaned against the workbench. He glared at me. “Why’d you do it Jessie? You told me you loved me. You broke me down to feel like I was nothing. You have treated me like shit for three years.”

His next words I could understand perfectly through the tape. “You’re worthless. You actually think I loved you? All I saw in you was a hot piece of ass that I wanted to tap at will.”

Oh look, another cliff, and he just pushed me over the edge. I nodded. “I figured as much.” I slowly walked over to him. The items were still in my hands as I approached him. I was tired of fucking around. “Time for round three. This will be the best one yet.”

I placed the board underneath his right hand and raised it to where it was level. He balled his hand into a fist and tried to move it. I pulled the board out from underneath his hand and brought it down hard across his knuckles. “Move your hand again and I’ll nail it to the fucking thing.”

He looked down to the left and sighed. His hand straightened. I placed the board beneath his hand once again. “You should have submitted when you had the chance. Now I won’t be giving you the choice again.” I brought the sledge down hard, crushing his hand between the board and the hammer. His scream, this time, lasted so long I almost expected him to pass out from lack of oxygen. His eyes began to close then opened back up as he inhaled deeply.

“Good. You’re still awake.” I ran the head of the hammer over his hand to find any unbroken bones. All his fingers were still unbroken. Starting at the knuckle by the palm, I did quick raps with the hammer down each finger. His screams were becoming increasingly hoarse with each shattered digit. I removed the board and walked to his left side.

Placing the board under his left hand, I started at his fingers and worked my way back. When I reached the back of his hand, I brought the hammer down so hard blood began pooling underneath and around his hand. As I tilted the board down to remove it, the blood splattered to the dirt. No screams emanated. I looked at his face to find him unconscious. “Thank you! Now it’s time to end this.”

Dropping the board on the ground next to his shoes, I walked to the workbench and laid the hammer on top of it. I grabbed the bottle of water off the workbench and walked over to unwind the rope. With rope in hand, I walked back around to face him. I emptied the remaining water from the bottle over his head. His eyes slowly flickered open. He started at a sniffle. At seeing the rope in my hand, his sniffles turned to sobbing pleas. “Now you’re pleading for your life? It’s too late for that now. You should have thought of that three years ago when you started beating me.” I walked around behind him once again. His sobs were audible along with the sounds of air sucking on the duct tape.

With this, I decided, I would take my time as well. I slowly pulled on the rope, hand over hand until the back chair legs began to rise off the ground. I heard his sobs cut off a couple moments before the chair legs left the dirt. I slowly lowered him back to the ground. Releasing the rope, I walked over and loosened the noose. As it loosened, he inhaled. Realizing he was still alive, he started fighting against his restraints. I could not delay this any longer. I quickly pulled the rope until all four legs of the chair hung free of the floor. The chair rattled and swayed as his body jerked while the life left him. After his dancing subsided, I walked over and looped the rope around the hook.

Although his body was still, with no signs of life showing, the chair and his body swung from side to side. I pulled my phone from my pocket to check the time. “8:45. I’ll give it about 15 minutes. That should be plenty of time.”

I watched him sway and spin back and forth. Hypnotized by the grotesque pendulum, I could not force my eyes from the sight. My eyes were transfixed on him for the entire 15 minutes. His eyes bulged from their sockets. I could only assume, if not for the duct tape, that his tongue would be hanging from his mouth.

After 15 minutes had passed, I unwound the rope from the hook and lowered him to the ground. Walking up to his body, I loosened the noose, and checked his neck for a pulse. Holding my hand in place for a full minute, I felt nothing.

I walked back to the rope lying on the floor and hoisted him into the air once again. As before, I guided him and the chair to the ground. This time I brought the chair legs down on the concrete floor, then walked over and to grab the shovel.

Now we are back to where we began. As I lifted the spade, full of dirt, and dumped it on Jessie’s body.

A keen sting flared across my right cheek. His face was inches in front of mine, his eyes staring at me. I was back in the kitchen. “What the fuck do you think you’re doing? What have I told you about day dreaming bitch?”

“That’s right. Don’t let it fucking happen again. I’m leaving now. You know what you’re supposed to do. Throw those broken dishes away while you’re at it.”

He walked to the door and pulled it open. “You know what needs done before I get home.”

He walked out of the door and I walked to the sink and acted like I was washing the dishes. After his car passed for the second time, I turned and leaned against the counter. I must have stared at his chair at the dining room table for five or ten minutes. The entire time, I was a heartbeat away from acting out my fantasy. Although he had caused me so much pain, I still loved him.

“Maybe he will change.” I turned and removed the shattered pieces from the sink.