In this thread, I will be posting the chapters of an original story of mine I recently started on. Every time I finish a chapter, it will be posted here. I hope you'll enjoy reading it!
Have you ever heard about an utopia? I'm sure you know what that means; a beautiful, perfect place where everything is good. I live in such a place. In my country, everything was always perfect. Zero crime rate, no people dying of diseases, no insane people, whatever problem you could come up with, it just didn't exist here. My family was perfect, too. I had a loving, caring husband with a well paid job and beautiful daughter of only three years old, but already very smart. I would stay home and take care of the household, while my husband worked and made sure we had enough money to make it through the month. We were happy, never fought. Everything was just perfect.
Until one day.
My husband, Mitch, came home later than usual, and something was wrong. It was easy to notice, because he never got drunk. He had always agreed with me that it was okay if he wanted to drink, but that he shouldn't get drunk, or at least not in the presence of our little girl. We wanted to be a good example to her.
Jenna, our daughter, was already asleep when my husband got home. When I realised he was drunk, I got mad at him for being so irresponsible with alcohol. It didn't take long before we were actually fighting, for the first time in months. But this time, during that fight, Mitch did something, something he had never done before, and what I never expected him to do.
He hit me. It was no soft slap or punch, but a hard and aggressive one, right in my face. I was too shocked by his behaviour to react and kept my mouth shut. We went to sleep without saying another word and I slept on the couch, not daring to tell him to do so, afraid that he would hit me again.
The next morning, he noticed that I was lying on the couch, with a red cheek even, because of him. He apologised and seemed to be truly sorry about what he had done. Soon enough we had made up, after I made Mitch promise that it would never happen again. But he broke his promise, and it did. It started to happen more times, and it only got worse. I got bruised multiple times, on some rare occasions even got something broken because of him. He didn't even need alcohol to get aggressive anymore after a while. It almost seemed like a habit. He wouldn't just hurt me, but made me lie about it, too. So I told people that it all just happened because of accidents. Slipping on a wet floor, falling off the stairs, there were enough excuses. I would take the beatings, and lied to everyone who asked.
But one day, things went too far, and I couldn't contain myself anymore.
Hurting me, threatening me and making me lie was one thing. I could take that, no matter how worse it got. But then he hurt Jenna. My little girl was crying and bleeding because of her own father.
Everyone has a point at which they just can't take it anymore and lose control. Some people never reach that point, but I did.
No one would hurt my daughter. I wouldn't let them. Jenna was the most important person in my life, and I wouldn't let anyone hurt her, no matter what. I walked to the kitchen and pulled open the drawer. Picked out a knife that would be sharp enough and got back to the living room. I told Jenna to go to her room, and she did. Before my husband could go after her, I grabbed his arm and stopped him. He hit me, but this time I fought back. I knew he was stronger than I was and could easily kill me, but I didn't care. I just had to put an end to this all, had to make sure that he would never hurt Jenna ever again. We fought for a while, until I got my chance and took it. All it took was just one stab in his heart before his lifeless body dropped down in front of me. I had become a murderer, but was too relieved to care. It had finally all stopped, for once and for all. Jenna was safe from the monster that was my husband, and I would never have to endure any of his beatings again. I had my life back, would be happy again. Or so I thought.
Remember what I told you at the beginning? That I live in an utopia? Did you wonder how it's possible for something like that to exist, something so perfect? I never did, but I was about to find out.
Until one day.
My husband, Mitch, came home later than usual, and something was wrong. It was easy to notice, because he never got drunk. He had always agreed with me that it was okay if he wanted to drink, but that he shouldn't get drunk, or at least not in the presence of our little girl. We wanted to be a good example to her.
Jenna, our daughter, was already asleep when my husband got home. When I realised he was drunk, I got mad at him for being so irresponsible with alcohol. It didn't take long before we were actually fighting, for the first time in months. But this time, during that fight, Mitch did something, something he had never done before, and what I never expected him to do.
He hit me. It was no soft slap or punch, but a hard and aggressive one, right in my face. I was too shocked by his behaviour to react and kept my mouth shut. We went to sleep without saying another word and I slept on the couch, not daring to tell him to do so, afraid that he would hit me again.
The next morning, he noticed that I was lying on the couch, with a red cheek even, because of him. He apologised and seemed to be truly sorry about what he had done. Soon enough we had made up, after I made Mitch promise that it would never happen again. But he broke his promise, and it did. It started to happen more times, and it only got worse. I got bruised multiple times, on some rare occasions even got something broken because of him. He didn't even need alcohol to get aggressive anymore after a while. It almost seemed like a habit. He wouldn't just hurt me, but made me lie about it, too. So I told people that it all just happened because of accidents. Slipping on a wet floor, falling off the stairs, there were enough excuses. I would take the beatings, and lied to everyone who asked.
But one day, things went too far, and I couldn't contain myself anymore.
Hurting me, threatening me and making me lie was one thing. I could take that, no matter how worse it got. But then he hurt Jenna. My little girl was crying and bleeding because of her own father.
Everyone has a point at which they just can't take it anymore and lose control. Some people never reach that point, but I did.
No one would hurt my daughter. I wouldn't let them. Jenna was the most important person in my life, and I wouldn't let anyone hurt her, no matter what. I walked to the kitchen and pulled open the drawer. Picked out a knife that would be sharp enough and got back to the living room. I told Jenna to go to her room, and she did. Before my husband could go after her, I grabbed his arm and stopped him. He hit me, but this time I fought back. I knew he was stronger than I was and could easily kill me, but I didn't care. I just had to put an end to this all, had to make sure that he would never hurt Jenna ever again. We fought for a while, until I got my chance and took it. All it took was just one stab in his heart before his lifeless body dropped down in front of me. I had become a murderer, but was too relieved to care. It had finally all stopped, for once and for all. Jenna was safe from the monster that was my husband, and I would never have to endure any of his beatings again. I had my life back, would be happy again. Or so I thought.
Remember what I told you at the beginning? That I live in an utopia? Did you wonder how it's possible for something like that to exist, something so perfect? I never did, but I was about to find out.