Her Last Duty

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My footsteps are hollow echoes in this cold, lonely hall – in this place called a hospital. It’s a place I’ve always dreaded to visit. My fear is you’d find out and make my punishments even worse. You wouldn’t even let me come here after you pushed me down the stairs. I lost our baby back then, but I couldn’t get myself to tell you. How I bled in my solitude, listening to your harsh words --

Slut! Whore! Stupid bitch!

-- echo incessantly in my tired mind.

Now it seems like nights of heavy drinking and chain smoking have finally caught up with you. As I push open the door to your hospital room, I shudder involuntarily. I realize this sensation and I hate myself for it. It’s a mental cringe. A fear that creeps up my spine and paralyzes me whenever I’m in your presence. Even without opening your mouth or saying a word, I am still afraid. I wonder if you’ll wake up suddenly and lash out at me, something you’re always so quick to do whenever you feel the urge.

I take off my sunglasses, my eyes still swollen from last week’s ‘lesson’. I sit beside you, as a dutiful wife should, watching as you open your eyes. You pin me with a glazed look and I smile and dab your forehead gently. I notice your face begin to contort in pain and I continue to smile. You make weak waving motions with your hand – something is clearly wrong.

But as an obedient wife, I will continue to watch you in this silent dance of death and as you take your final breath, I will wipe your sweaty brow, place a kiss on your clammy skin, and take that elusive step that I’ve always thought impossible.

My freedom.

Word Count: 300