Rape

Every evening she showered of the blood and put band-aids on herself. Every morning she did her best to cover up her bruises with make-up, hoping that no-one would notice. She would go to work, do what she had to do, and that without saying word to no-one, unless she was spoken to. After work she went by the supermarket and shopped for dinner. Then she took the bus home, and started to make dinner. When her husband came home the dinner was ready and the table set. They ate, and she cleared the table and did the dishes while he watched the tv-news. When the news was over, h would drag her into the bedroom, nail her to the bed and rape her. She wouldn’t utter a sound. It was years since she had screamed in fear, pain and rage. she had learned that her screams only excited him and made it worse for her.
When he was finished, he would leave her bleeding on the bed and go out to drink with his friends. She would shower and then get back to bed. She would lay on her back for hours on end, just steering at the roof. Sometimes clear tears would build up in her empty, dead-looking eyes before they would run down the sides of her head and lay themselves to rest in her hair and in the pillow.
Late at night her husband would come back home, and he would be drunk. He would enter the bedroom and remove his pants. And without saying a word he would rape his wife again.
She would still be steering at the roof, doing her very best not to look at the man she once had loved, while holding back her screams. Her eyes will go blank with suppressed sorrow while her head would hit against he headboard of the bed. He would keep going until she was bleeding, and then he would take hold of her head and force her to blow him. Then he would fall asleep.
She would get up and lock herself in the bathroom again. She would carefully wash away the blood without making a sound. It always angered him if she woke him up. Then she would get back into bed and keep on steering at the roof.

This was her life, her daily routine. She lived in this hell every day. It had been like this for the last then years of her life. The anger, the sorrow and the pain had had a lot of time to build up in her. This night it would expand again and explode. Her eyes are black with hate and she rises from the bed again. Se makes her way out to the kitchen and opens a drawer. Picks up a knife, the biggest one she can find. Back in the bedroom again, she stops on his side of the bed. The knife is in her hand, still in the air above his neck. Her black eyes are now shining, she is eager for her revenge. A smile spreads across her face and she starts to laugh. A high-pitched hysterical laughter. Her husband opens his eyes, drowsy from the sleep. He stare blankly at her for a minute, before he spots the knife in her hand. He sees it, but his brain is to tired to register it. Before he is fully aware of the fact that he is going to die, she strikes.
She stabs the knife into his neck and pulls it towards herself with a harsh movement. The blood runs down the sides of his neck and lays itself to rest in his hair. His breathing slows down and his eyes get unfocused.
She smiles psychotic and laughs. She’s free. She puts down the knife and walk into the bathroom. She washes of the blood on her hands, arms and chest without making a sound. The she goes back to bed and lay down. For the first time in ten years she sleeps without dreams of being raped. She sleeps without fear of waking up with him beside her.