Behind Closed Doors

I look round at my new home. It wouldn’t suit everybody, but I’ve got a good feeling about the place. It’s small and the colour scheme is drab, but nobody can disturb me. There’s a good education institution nearby, so I might do a course, perhaps get some qualifications. I’ll investigate that tomorrow if I have time. There’s a library too, so I should have plenty to keep me occupied. It’ll take me a while to get into a routine, find out what’s happening in the neighbourhood, but until I’ve got things sussed out, I’ll keep myself to myself, and hopefully in time I’ll make a few friends.

The bed is only a single one, nothing like the double bed I shared with Greg. It makes me sad to think to think I’ll be sleeping alone for the foreseeable future.

I met Greg about two years ago. He was good looking, kind, and generous. Within no time at all, I was madly in love with him. I’d only known him a matter of weeks when I moved in to his flat. Everybody said it was too soon. Perhaps things were moving quickly, but it felt right. I knew I’d met my soul mate. For once in my life I followed my heart not my head. Greg was the best thing that had ever happened to me, and in those early days, we were blissfully happy.

Nothing lasts for ever.

‘How dare you flirt with Steve, like that? You were like a love sick teenager, all over him like a rash.’ Greg sneered at me, one night after we’d been out with some friends.

‘I was only talking to him when you went to the bar. He was telling me some tales about things you two got up to when you were at school. It was funny, I enjoyed his stories.’

‘So you fancy him, do you?’

His face was close to mine, his breath smelling of stale beer. His cheeks were red with rage and for the first time, I was more than a little afraid of him.

‘No, it’s you I love, but it was nice talking to Steve’.

‘Because, if I find out you’re seeing him behind my back, I swear, I’ll kill you both.’

He turned and walked away from me, his fists clenched, and his body shaking furiously. This was a side to Greg I’d not seen before, but it gave me a good feeling to think he loved me so much he couldn’t bear the thought of me with another man. He wanted me all for himself.

The incident passed and he reverted to his usual, loving self, until one night he didn’t arrive home from work at the usual time. I’d prepared his meal, but it had gone cold.

I rang his mobile phone, but it was turned off. I imagined him lying in a ditch, hurt. I couldn’t bear it if anything happened to him. I tried phoning some of his friends, but nobody knew where he was. As the evening wore on I became frantic with worry. I was beginning to think about phoning the hospitals.

Then after eleven o’clock, he tottered in, smelling of sour alcohol and his clothes reeking of cigarette smoke. Relief rushed over me, but then anger at his thoughtlessness took over.

‘Where have you been? You might have rung me to let me know you were going to be late.’

He lunged at me, his legs unsteady with excess alcohol consumption.

‘I’ve been to the pub. You stupid bitch. You don’t own me. I can go where I want. I don’t have to answer to you.’

‘I’m sorry, but I’ve been worried about you.’ I said, trying to placate him.

He should be the one to apologise. He’d been in the wrong.

Thwack.

I staggered backwards as his balled fist made contact with the side of my face. His other fist hit me in my stomach. He swayed backwards, leaving me to sit on the sofa, numb with shock. Half an hour later I found him fast asleep in bed.

The following morning, he asked what had happened to my face. He couldn’t believe he’d caused the huge purple black bruise. He was childlike with his apologies, trying to convince me it wouldn’t happen again

It did.

Over and over again.

Whenever he wasn’t getting his own way, or he’d been out drinking with his mates, he would take out his frustrations on me. I got used to hiding my black eyes behind sunglasses, whatever the weather. My lips seemed to be permanently swollen and bruised. My ribs were constantly in pain from his kicks.

One evening, after a particular severe beating, I opened the door to find Steve standing there. My stomach churned, I daren’t invite him in. If Greg came home and found him here, I knew what would happen. I’d get even more bruises to complement the ones I already had.

‘Whatever happened to you?’

‘I fell down the stairs.’ I said, not meeting his gaze. I knew he didn’t believe me, but how could I admit the truth? Greg treated me like a punch bag.

‘I just called round; I haven’t seen you or Greg for a while.’

‘Please go, Greg will be home soon.’ I was beginning to panic. He had to leave. Didn’t he realise what would happen of he was here when Greg arrived home? My life was hardly worth living. Steve’s visit would only make it worse.

‘I’ll come in and wait for him, catch up on what’s going on.’

I had no option but to stand aside and let him enter. A few minutes later, I heard the door open.

Greg’s face was dark and menacing, but he was pleasant towards Steve. He even offered him a beer. I wasn’t fooled; I knew what would happen when Steve left. If only I’d managed to get rid of Steve before Greg got home.

As soon as Steve had gone, Greg followed me into the kitchen.

‘What was he doing here? I’ve told you before; I don’t want you seeing him.’ Greg snarled, his face contorted with rage.

His body pressed up against mine, pushing my back into the kitchen work units. His eyes had darkened with anger, the veins in his neck stood out, thick, throbbing with rage. He took one step backwards, his right hand clenched into a fist. I don’t know where the strength came from, but it enveloped my body. I shoved him away and picked up a carving knife. As I held it in both hands, in front of his chest, I saw the terror in his face. This must be the same look he saw in my eyes each time he attacked me.

‘You wouldn’t dare.’ His voice jeered. Mocked. Taunted.

Just for a moment, I had the power. Our roles were reversed. I wasn’t about to back down and prove him right. The blade of the knife glistened under the electric light. As I plunged it into his chest, he reeled back, as if in a drunken stupor, clutching his hands across his chest. I pulled the knife out and thrust it into his chest again. This time he didn’t resist. He couldn’t. He merely accepted his fate, as I’d done on so many occasions, before he fell to the floor, groaning.

As I towered over his body, I thought of the times he’d been in this position, looking down at me as I writhed in agony on the floor.

‘You’ll never hurt me again.’ I said with a hysterical laugh, just for good measure I kicked him, several times, in his ribs. ‘Now you know what it feels like.’

In a trance, I made myself a cup of tea and sat in the kitchen, looking at Greg. His moans became quieter and he grew still and inert as his lifeblood seeped from his body. His facial expression was kind and peaceful, just as it was when I first knew him.

‘Jesus, I think you’ve killed him.’ Steve said when he arrived in answer to my phone call.

‘Yes, I think I have.’ I replied amazed at how calm I felt.

The next few hours passed in a fog.

Sirens.

Blue flashing lights.

A dark, dreary cell.

Steve was a tower of strength during the next few weeks.

The judge was lenient. There were mitigating circumstances. He said all the abuse I’d suffered had driven me to kill Greg. Steve testified about the violence I’d suffered. They got my medical records which showed visits to the hospital with broken ribs and once a broken nose.

My new home may not be luxurious, but never again, will I have to steel myself against the force of his clouts. I’ll have peace of mind. Steve says he’ll come and visit me. He’s turned out to be a true friend, but I can’t expect him to wait for me.

Even though I’m locked up in prison, I have a sense of freedom, I never had before.