I Took Care Of It

Rebecca seeks refuge in her brother's home, only to realize that what she has done will always hunt her...

“Here, drink this” Robert said, setting on the table a cup with a dark liquid within it.

With trembling hands, Rebecca picked it up, bringing it to her lips. It was warm and she suspected it contained alcohol. A sip confirmed her suspicions: her brother had mixed rum with apple juice, to mask it’s bitterness. Rebecca was not really fond of alcoholic beverages, unless if they were mild and came to be very sweet. Robert knew her better than anyone. Better than her own husband. This realization, made her shiver.

“You’re cold? Want me to fetch you a sweater?” Robert inquired, a worried look on his face.

Rebecca shook her head, holding to the cup as if her life depended on it. The remembrance of her husband brought in a flood of disagreeable memories. A reminder of what had happened; what had lead her to seek refuge at her brother’s place. She took another sip, and another, her hands shaking more and more. Robert extended his forearm and placed a hand on her shoulder, squeezing it slightly. This contact was supposed to be comforting, but it only sent a discharge throughout her arm, making her pull away brusquely, pain crossing her lips.

“Are you hurt?” Robert inquired

“No, it’s nothing. I just hit my shoulder against the bookshelf and bruised myself” she lied.

Robert didn’t seem to buy it. After all, he knew her better than anyone.

“Show me,” he ordered.

Rebecca knew that her brother was not easy to dismiss, and he would see it one way or another. She let out a sight, resigned and set the cup back on the table, pulling carefully her arm out of the sweater she’s been wearing. A quick look at his face, told her that he was horrified by what he was seeing. Her arm was very badly bruised, but not in an accidental way. Robert took off his eyes from her arm, long enough to ask her the question she knew was coming.

“Did he do that to you?”

She nodded, pushing away the tears that were coming to her eyes at the thought of what had happened.

“That b*****d!” Robert shouted “I’m gonna kill him!”

“Don’t” she said, trying to regain control of her shivering body.

“Don’t? Jesus, Becca, look at your arm! And from what I can see, it is not the only thing that you have bruised. How long has he been doing this to you? And why didn’t you tell me? I swear, if I get my hands on him… I will make him regret ever setting his eyes on you!” he was fuming.

Rebecca looked around the small kitchen. She came here to escape everything that had happened. She’d hoped, like a fool, that her brother would have never found what was happening to her, or at least had happened. She’d hoped that she could pretend that she had just had a bad dream. But Robert wasn’t going to let it slide, not if she did not tell him the full story. She had to tell him, before he made a stupid move. Inhaling she finally resolved to speak.

“I took care of it” she finally said in answer to her brother’s questions.

“You took care of it? By running away? Jeez, Becca! You can't run away from your husband. We have to contact the authorities and have him arrested and as soon as he is behind those bars, we can get you out of this marriage,” he was going on and on.

“I took care of it” she repeated, over and over, like a mantra. She was staring beyond Robert. Robert who now looked more mortified than worried, and who kept calling her name. But he seemed so far away now. So out of reach. Rebecca only saw her husband at this moment. They'd fought that morning. He’d hit her repeatedly as he had done before, and she was trying to protect herself from his assaults. She started counting, waiting for him to stop. When he'd finally left, she found herself unable to get up, tears rolling down as she lay helpless. Later that night as she lay down on their marital bed, she'd pretended being asleep, afraid that he'd do something to her in her sleep. She had hidden a knife underneath her pillow. Just in case, she'd thought. She wouldn’t be the victim anymore. She would fight back. Only a fight never occurred. She had taken care of him in his sleep. Before she knew it she'd slid his throat open, watching him bleed out. And now he stood in front of her, while she repeated over and over her mantra.

Author's Note

Any constructive feedback would be welcome.

Reviews

[Stefanie Holmes]

“Here, drink this” Robert said, setting on the table a cup with a dark liquid within it. This first line seems a little jumbled to me. I would reword it or restructure it somehow to make it flow a little better. Other than that line I loved the story! Like the other review though I do wish it was longer! I was completely engrossed. You have a unique way of telling a story.
I hope to be able to read more of your work!

~Stefanie

[Colette]

Thank you, Stefanie! I really appreciate you taking the time to review my story. And I am happy you enjoyed it. I just had a set word number for this story and that is why it ended where it did. I will be sharing more stories soon ;)

[Stefanie Holmes]

You are very welcome! I look forward to reading more of your work, so please let me know when you have more posted!

[Colette]

will do! :)

[Matthew Standiford]

I like this, and I know its a short story but I wish there was more. You got me interested in Rebecca and her plight. I think it would have been slightly better if we got to spend more time with her.

[Colette]

Yes, i felt the same as I finished typing it. I might turn it into a longer short story. Thank you for your review