Silver Promises

Silver Promises

         “Why?” Her softened lips slowly formed the word she had been pondering for so long now. The rest of her body lay motionless, wrapped only in a blue cotton towel and lying on the frigid tile. “Why?” A solitary tear slipped from the corner of her stale blue eyes and clung to her pale cheek. She studied the small silver band resting not two inches from her nose. She didn’t know how long she had been lying there. All she knew was that she didn’t want to move, didn’t want to think, didn’t want to breath, and she didn’t want to feel. She just wanted to fade away. Slowly dissolve bit by bit into the cold floor.
         But she couldn’t. Despite the happenings of that day, she couldn’t leave the one person who loved and needed her. No one else needed her. Her mind began to race once more. Every word, every gunshot, every creak of the floor, every sigh and gasp for air, she could hear it all, replaying like a broken record in her heavy head. Her hands began to tremble. Her graceful eyelids quickly slid closed, creating a black screen for the movie of her memory to play on. And it began.
         The curtains rose on a bright and cheery day. It was a vision of their wedding 12 years ago. Everyone was smiling and laughing. The small chapel was decorated with gleeful yellow daises and soft white fabrics. Still new to her finger, she twisted at a small silver band. Her mother’s words echoed through the suddenly hollow setting. “This day will change your life forever.” The relevance of it now stung.
         The screen went black and the next scene began. She could see herself, her legs folded beneath her quietly and nervously toying with her silver ring. She was sitting on the love seat, just watching the clock tick past two a.m. The television flashed dimly in the background bringing the only light into their small apartment. The light reached into the next room where a toddler named Cole slept peacefully in his bed. The weather had been wretchedly cold. There was already over two feet of snow. But being locked in her cave, she didn’t mind. Her thoughts were only that her work-addicted lawyer of a  husband would be home soon. He was already four hours late.
          Suddenly the front door was thrown open. Snow swirled about his feet as he slumped in the door and closed it behind him. Almost immediately she raced to him and began taking off his overcoat, urging him to come in and sit down. He mumbled something about not needing her help and stood frozen in the same place. Still she continued to fret over him as if he was a small child, taking off his tie and unbuttoning his suit coat. His protests grew louder and stronger. “They treat me like an invalid at the law firm! I’ll be damned if you do too!”  All the same she fussed over him. His masculine hand reared back and the movie paused. A still frame appeared of that hand raised in range.
         It was of the hand she had so loved, the hand she waited for every night, the hand that wiped away her tears and brushed the soft black hair from her eyes. But it wasn’t so much the hand and approaching pain that evoked terror in that moment. It was his eyes. The once soft green globes that seemed to have so much life in them were now dim and dead. No joy or happiness could be seen in them. Only cold misdirected anger. That was the first time he struck her. She should have left then but she believed in the promise of a small silver band.
         Abruptly the vista changed. Times and events began to quickly pass in review as if in fast forward. Long nights, tears, stressful trips, new homes, money, power, greed, ruined birthday parties, bruises, job promotions, lies, broken bones, and crushed dreams flickered upon her movie screen. It finally stopped on the morning of his last day.
         It started like every other day at seven in the morning. She carefully pushed herself out of bed as not to wake him. She drifted to the bathroom down the hall to wash her face. As she peered into the mirror, her hand tenderly traced the large bruise on her cheek. Clumsily, her ring bumped it, making her grimace in pain. She turned her head and saw her son, wearing a large ball cap and limping slightly. His arms beared the effects of his father’s bad day at work. She wished that they could leave. She wished that they could run and leave their tormentor behind but she knew they couldn’t. If she was to get a divorce, the tormentor would take Cole and leave her with nothing but bad memories and scars. If they were to flee, the tormentor said he would find them and kill them both. The tormentor was an unescapable death sentence. The noose waiting to tighten. Cole smiled at his mother. “See Ma? It’s not so bad this morning but what’s my excuse this time?”
         It was in that moment that she made a decision. In that instant, she took her fate into her own hands. Not long after Cole left for school did the tormentor awake. She walked into the study to find the inheritance her father had left her. It was just where she had left it. She lifted the frigid black revolver from the top shelf and checked to make sure it was loaded. The cylinder snapped shut and she eased the gun into the pocket of her apron. She practiced pulling the gun out. It’s metallic coat sparkled with a diamond like brilliance in the early morning sunlight.
         The weight of the gun bounced on her leg as she swaggered down the hall. She held her head high,  no longer afraid. The door to their room stood ajar, and she silently pushed it open. He was sitting on the side of the bed pulling on his pants. Skillfully, she reached into her pocket and drew the revolver just as she had practiced. His green eyes moved to the gun as she calked the hammer. For the first time in eight years she saw the luster that his eyes that she once loved but they were no longer filled with love, they were filled with fear. Without a word, without doubt, or even another thought she pulled the trigger.
         The movie progressed in slow motion. A large bang and then the fierce lead bullet flew through the air, making a sickening and satisfactory thud as it pierced his skull. The cylinder rotated and she cocked the hammer once more. All the torture he had put his family through deserved more than one bullet. She fired once again before his body had the chance to hit the sheets.
         She dropped the gun and turned around. She lurched down the hall in a stupor. As she walked towards the bathroom, she began to strip off her clothing. The last thing she removed before stepping into the shower was a small sliver band and it’s broken promises.