Reverberations of Rage

Trigger Warning: Domestic Violence

Alan decides it's time to face the man in the mirror.

“9-1-1, What’s your emergency?”

“I need you to come to 804 Buckhorn Lane, there’s been a terrible accident.”

The phone line clicks.

-

“Mark my words, Martha. One of these days you’ll wind up dead!” Alan spat, fist shaking an inch from her face. The crimson in his cheeks indicated the temperature and toxicity at which his blood boiled. Martha pressed herself further into the counter, unsure who was acting more like a caged animal in this doomed marriage. He had been out late, neglecting her for ‘work’ as he did almost every night these last few weeks. She had become fearful of the hours he spent away; for when he returned home, it was always with an ill temper and looking to fight. Tonight, reeking of alcohol, he happened upon her in the kitchen. She was carefully packing dinner away in the fridge when he set off toward her in vengeance; as though she hadn’t waited hours for his homecoming.

   “T-that’s how you t-treat your wife?” She stuttered but continued more bravely, “No hello? I cooked a dinner that you’re not home to eat, wondering what you’ve been up to all evening, and you threaten me? Don’t tell me you’ve been working all this time, I smell the alcohol on your breath. So what is it then, the bar or the club?”

“Watch it Martha! How dare you accuse me!” He shouted in her face, unsteady on his feet, and red as a demon.

She continued still, “I might end up dead, Alan. If not by your cruel hands then in my spirit. You’re horrible!” Anger raised her timid voice an octave. “I’m like a mother and you’re just a child who can't do anything for himself. You only do as you please! I love you the best I can, and you hate me! Where is your fear in God? If you despise me so much let me go. I’ll be gone tomorrow either way. I never want to see your face again!” Tears started to well in her eyes, unbeckoned. This kind of talk was going to get her in trouble but she couldn’t seem to stop it.

   “Is that so?” He raised an eyebrow incredulously. “And where could you go? Unless...” He wagged his finger in contemplation, “You’re cheating on me.” He hiccuped.

 Voice cold and inebriated he accused her in the timbre of conviction. Stepping closer, the heat of his face radiated onto her own and she had no space to move. One might consider the gesture intimate, if it weren’t so intimidating. The clenched fist he was holding found her hair, fingers unlocking to knot themselves painfully against her scalp, craning her neck so she had no choice but to look at him. 

“Where would you go Martha?” He whispered, “You’ll be dead with or without me. Destitute and starving without all the nice things I provide for you. Ugly...” His other hand reached up to her throat and ripped the thin gold necklace he had bought her the last time guilt touched his heart, tearing it from her skin. It was her favorite one, with a small golden cross, and she yelped in pain as it snapped against her. The rankness of his breath seared her nostrils. 

“You’re mine, wife.” He spat. “That means you’re part of me. You’re not going anywhere unless I say so.” He was regarding her wide eyes with contempt. Shaking his head, he laughed. “No one could love you more than me and no one would want to, look at yourself.”

   She knew he might be right, of course. Martha had learned her place in the minds of others from a young age. First by her parents, then by him. Plain, unloved and unlovable. Especially to those that meant the most to her. It was also true she had declined in beauty since their marriage. She was rounder, time under stress bringing out premature wrinkles. The lack of income, or more accurately the lack of her allowance, meant she needed to dress more frugally than she did in the beginning. Alan would blow the rest of the money on beer and it was getting harder to pay the bills.

 Martha assumed she wouldn’t be beautiful by anyone’s standard now; though she could hardly try. There was no point, he’d think she was cheating on him and beat it out of her. But after this night she wouldn’t stay with him a minute more. Maybe then she could feel pretty. This past month had left her surprised to see a new morning each day, and after pleading the case to her mother, Martha’s mom finally agreed she could move back in. She really was going to leave this time...

To her embarrassment, Martha considered their broken marriage. She would have never tied herself to him knowing this man’s tendency toward lying and violence. It jarred her to think of the man she first met. Alan was a perfect gentleman then; doting, romantic, and handsome. He made her feel like the only woman in the world and told her twice as much about it being his truth. They were together day and night, feeling so complete in each other’s presence, it was as though they needed nothing other than the air around them to survive. She had never felt so well taken care of in all her life and it was easy to lose sight of everything, even now, save his perfection...when things were good. Things had certainly not been good recently. 

Their honeymoon period wasn’t stainless either, there were arguments in the beginning. These mostly happened because of his jealous nature, but Alan swore it was only from loving her so much. He said he felt protective and that was the only thing she had ever wanted to hear from a man. When they were married a year later; the arguments escalated to beatings that began occurring more regularly, increasing in violence. Somehow she knew the first time he hit her and she forgave him, was the last time she would know peace.

Closing her swollen eyes after being knocked to the floor, Martha let herself slip into unconsciousness. The onslaught continued on the now bloodied linoleum but meant nothing to her in her resolution. She would never see him again. She prayed to God that she be delivered from his hands and in the midst of the chaos happening in that kitchen, peace surrounded her at last. Somewhere from beyond the darkness Alan was crying out a drunken apology “Sorry, sorry, sorry...” and she wondered if the remorse was genuine.

-

   The next morning, Alan awoke. Head pounding and muscles sore from the night’s activities, he could smell the stove in the kitchen and it caught his half-stupored attention. He wondered briefly what Martha could be making this early in the morning as he rolled out of bed, and stiffly made his way downstairs in nothing but loose boxers. He wondered what she would look like too, and if there were any chance they’d be able to make up in his favorite way. He naturally chose to forget most of what transpired the previous night.

   Atop the stairs he saw her standing at the range with her back to him. “Martha, what are you up to?” He called down groggily.

Past what looked like a crime scene he could see her auburn hair shining in contrast to the dismal surroundings. It fell in rolling waves just below her shoulders. She had a delicate white apron tied around her waist. Turning to look up at him, he could see her chocolate eyes sparkling from beneath long black lashes, matching an equally radiant smile. Then she turned her beautiful face back to the stove. Carrying on with the labor of love Alan knew he didn’t deserve; but was greedy for nonetheless. Exhaling in wonder, he stared at the posterior of the woman he married.

To have a heart like that, he considered as she stood there stirring whatever was cooking in the pan, she truly is my better half. Without her forgiveness I think I’d burn. She might save me yet.

   “You haven’t looked this lovely since our wedding day.” He called out, making his way down the stairs. Avoiding the carnage to the left as he crossed the kitchen, intent on putting his hands around her inviting waist; he hoped to remind her only of the love they shared together. He would atone for his transgressions, make it up to her; but before he could reach out she turned to face him fully.

   “Don’t.” She held up a hand to stop him. Avoiding his eyes she looked past him at the floor to his left.

   It was fair but he could feel the anger rising. He wanted to move on from what had happened. He was drunk, it was in the past, and today was a day for love. He continued his step closer to her.

   “I said don’t Alan! I’m leaving! And to tell you the truth... I’m already gone.” She flicked her gaze back over to the floor beside the counter, where her blood had stained the cabinets. It seemed to give her courage.

   “No Martha. You can’t. I won’t allow it, you’re everything to me...” He looked for the usual glimmer these words brought to her eyes, searching for the familiar love that could be found there. She was glowing and perfect, but there was no hint of hesitation as they were set, cold and hard. Staring into his.

   This resolution pissed him off and he went to grab her; but was met by air.

   “I told you Alan, I’m gone.” She glared at him. “You can’t hurt me anymore, I’ll never lift another finger to care for you, and I’m not scared of you. You’ll never have my love again. Not now and not ever!”

   A strange feeling washed over him. He felt the blood drain from his body, leaving him cold. Following to where her gaze had lingered, he looked down. Investigating more fully the site of last night’s transgression, he saw there was blood on the cabinets, pooling black on the floor by her hair as it fanned out in snaking tendrils that formed under its congealing. Martha’s body lay still. Her face was puffy and unrecognizable, eerily motionless. It was the face of a corpse. And the corpse of a woman he loved. Sickness took him and he turned back to her visage in anger.

   “No!” he shouted. “You’re not gone. I...I didn’t do this.” He pulled his hair in anxiety. “It’s… this is your own fault!” He pointed an accusing finger, “ If you hadn’t threatened to leave, if you weren’t such a cheater, if you were just a good wife this would have never happened to you!”

   Martha smiled, unphased. “But I was a good wife, Alan. Better than most. I tried not to leave you, but you gave me no choice, and I wasn’t the one cheating.” Martha looked through his core, and he saw himself in her eyes. “You just took it all out on me. You couldn’t handle your sins, and as your wife, a part of you, you had called me; you destroyed me. But guess what Alan? I wasn’t the one so happily sinning. And so yours compacted, desensitizing you. Now you’ll get your pay when they find you’re a murderer. You’ll be put down like the dangerous animal you’ve become.” Her smile was hellish.

   This cold, hateful Martha scared him. He wasn’t used to feeling afraid. “Please Martha, come back. I’ll do anything for you. I’ll stop cheating. I’ll never step foot in that club again...I’ll tell her we’re done. Or... I won’t say anything, I’ll never speak to her again if you just come home to me. I’ll never raise my voice or touch you in any hard way…we could be happy again. I’ll get help, we’ll go to church. Just come back... please.”

   “That’s not how these things work, Alan. You’re going to burn.” There was a gleeful spark in this specter’s eye. He could see the flames coming for him as he watched Martha’s face, it shifted to that of his father’s. The demon grew tall and angry, wielding a belt.

   “Come on and blame me, Alan. For all the beatings you received as a boy. Blame this situation on how I treated you and your mother. Blame everything on anyone but yourself, boy. You’re going to feel this belt!” His father’s voice boomed through the small room as he advanced.

   Alan backed away, as though no time had passed since he was a child. He cowered in the corner, not understanding what was happening to him.

   “Stand up and take this like a man. Don’t be such a sissy.” The specter goaded.

Alan’s spirit fell off him. He knew he’d feel that belt’s sting either way and stood up. Trying to think about how bad things had gotten, he remembered a time his conscience was less black, when he vowed never to end up like the man towering over him. Somehow, he had become even worse. 

His beautiful wife... He’d been so nervous she would leave him if she knew how ugly and undeserving he was. He couldn’t live without her light and he couldn’t handle the paranoia. He took to drinking and cheating himself as though that would ease the pain. Then he started beating her like his father did to him and his mother. Now she would never cheat on him, he knew deep in his soul she never had, but Martha had also left him forever and it was all his fault. The depression weighed on him, compacted by a guilty conscience.

   Looking up in anticipation of a sting, he saw Martha standing there again. Lovely, with eyes sparkling and filled with kindness as they had always been in life. He broke down in tears at her sweetness.

   “Is there anything I can do, Martha? I should have been more open about my feelings. I should have let you into the ugliest parts of me. Talked instead of taken off. You could have saved me but I wouldn’t let you.” His voice broke. “You were the best part of me...but I hate myself, every part. I never meant to do this to you...” Alan whispered hoarsely.

   She looked over to the stove. He only just realized the whole room smelled like gas. In his hand he was holding a lighter, and wasn’t sure how it came to be but knew there was a choice he had to make.

   “Put down the lighter, Alan.” His wife said. “If you want to gain back anything lost here today, you would put it down and turn yourself in. Tell the police the crime you’ve committed and let a jury and the Almighty decide your fate. Let me be buried by my family and not burned. Don’t take that choice from us like a coward.”

   His hands were shaking so bad he almost dropped the lighter. He considered ending it all in flame. He’d burn forever, but Martha didn’t deserve to. 

Letting the lighter fall, he moved to turn off the gas, and opened all the windows in the house. Coming back to that haunted kitchen, Martha stood there smiling next to her battered body. It gave him enough courage to pick up the phone and dial the three numbers that would ascertain his fate.

   He waited there, in the bloody kitchen until the police, firefighters, and an ambulance arrived. When they were on scene, for the first time in his life when he wanted to the most, he didn’t lie. It was all he could do for her memory.

-

   Alan is now serving a life sentence. He attends every church service held at the prison and is unrecognizable from the person Martha once knew. He will never regain his freedom, though the same cannot be said of most abusers who commit domestic violence.

-  

If you’re experiencing domestic abuse or are an abuser, don’t wait. Get help now. According to the National Coalition Against Domestic Violence 1 in 4 women and 1 in 9 men are victims of some form of domestic violence (https://ncadv.org/STATISTICS). If you or someone you know needs help, call 800-799-7233/(SAFE) or visit https://www.thehotline.org/. They have resources for the abused as well as abusers. Don’t be ashamed to get help, many people experience abusive tendencies, but changing them might just save a life. “Everyone deserves healthy relationships...Love is Respect”(thehotline.org).