Trigger warning: this story contains graphic violence and a scene of abuse.
You only die once. I tried repeating the phrase inside my head, over and over again. You only die once. You only die once. Once I made it past the threshhold, there would be no more pain and I would never have to experience this again.
“You fucking like that???” His voice rang shrill and bounced painfully into my aching skull.
I didn’t fucking like it at all. I could barely see him through my blood caked eyelids, but his fat, disgusting body was still recognizable. That sick fuck! He was nothing but a fat piece of shit!
A high pitched whir filled the air. “Because I do!” Through the red haze, I watched him raise the power drill again. I tried to move, willing every muscle in my throbbing limbs to break free. I couldn’t take it again. Not again! It had been hours already, for Christsake!
The drill bit into my left hand and drove through my outstretched palm. He pushed it in slowly, taunting me while he did. I could feel each tendon snap as the metal sliced through the soft tissues. It was unbearable. Then it struck the bone and he pushed hard. A bundle of nerves exploded inside my open hand and I screamed, “Oh god!” The bone shattered and the drill pressed through the other side.
He yanked the drill back. The bit popped out of the drill-head, hanging loosely on a leaf of flesh. It tugged on my throbbing hand and yanked the fresh wound open just a little bit more.
I cried. Hot tears poured down my cheeks and my chest heaved. I couldn’t take it. I just wanted to die. I wanted to die and be done with it goddamit. No more. I couldn’t do it any more.
He must have heard me thinking, because he grabbed my face and pressed his foul lips against mine, whispering, “You know why I do this?”
I couldn’t speak of course. He had cut out my tongue in the first hour. He said he never knew how to shut me up, so this was his way of doing it. For me. For us.
“Because I love you.”
The words cut sharper than any of his instruments. I looked into his deep blue eyes and examined him. I used to love him. I used to love pressing my thin frame against his stocky body, using his bulk for warmth. He was like a giant teddy bear. A large man with a large heart, I bragged to my friends. Now, he was just a fat piece of shit.
He let go of my cheeks and stepped away from me. Dropping the drill, he placed his hands on his hips and frowned. “Just smile once in a while, would ya?”
I couldn’t even if I tried. I didn’t have the strength. I was done, but he wasn’t letting me die so soon. He wanted to make me feel the way I had made him feel. It was the only way to make things right, he had said. Hadn’t I paid the price by now? I just wanted to die.
You only die once. I repeated it again, as if those very words would drive a knife into my heart and end it all. As if the words themselves would be my savior.
“Look at what you made me do!” He shouted, interrupting my thoughts. He pulled out his pistol, raised it to his head, and pulled the trigger.
His body fell to the floor with a heavy thump and the gun landed beside him. I yanked at my restraints as hard as I could, but they wouldn’t budge. Nausea gripped my stomach and I felt the need to vomit. Acid burned the back of my throat and nipped painfully at the fleshy nub where my tongue used to be.
I looked at the floor where my husband lay. He looked so peaceful and calm, compared to how violent he had been moments ago. I didn’t deserve this. He deserved to be in my place and die agonizingly slow in the basement.
My left hand hung limp and broken, still bleeding from where the drill had bit through. Everything ached and burned and I knew I wasn’t going to die as soon as I wanted.
I glanced once more at the body before me. He lay in a pool of his own blood, surrounded by his sins. Whether he was in hell or not, I didn’t know, but at least he was dead.