When a woman gets fed up

A friend of mine sent this to me. It's good, and it's cold.

A man comes home from work early to surprise
his wife with flowers and candy and finds that
she's already got something planned?the
computer is on and there is note written on it.
He sits down in front of the computer and
notices his handgun on one side of the computer
and on the other side, an empty container of
pain pills. He reads the message:


By the time you read this I will already be
dead, so don't get too excited. Don't bother
looking around the house for me either. Of
course I didn't want my body where my children
may see, for they have already seen enough.
They have already had to endure far too many
years of seeing their mother being tortured by
the man they are supposed to look up to. But
even though I know I am going to hurt them
dearly, I cannot live like this anymore. So, I
am taking these pain pills, prescribed for the
kind of pain you inflict and I am going
somewhere to take a nap.


Don't bother looking for me, just sit there and
do something that you haven't been able to do
for the last ten years?listen to me. Now that I
had to go and kill myself to get your
attention, the least you can do is finish
reading this letter. I have been writing it
over and over in my head for years. Every time
that you beat me I had to rewrite it to add to
the horror. Besides I didn't want you to find
me after I died because the thought of you
touching me even after death turns my stomach.
I refuse to let you touch me again, in life or
death.


I chose to die because I promised God when I
married you that I would love you for life. And
since I am more afraid of him than you, I chose
death. I cannot love you anymore so I have to
leave this place. As I look around to this
house, you know its funny but I can remember
the good times that we shared together. Before
the babies, before the drinking, do you
remember? I do, and it was good back then. It
was almost good enough to give me a little hope
that we could get back to those times. And they
were good times. I guess I have to settle with
the fact that no matter what's going on right
now, you once loved me, and even you can't deny
that. I think what hurts more than my ribs that
are stinging me right now is the fact that I
still love you. That realization is stronger
than any fist you could ball up and hurl at me.
Knowing that my love for you causes a stronger
and more lasting pain is much worse than a
swift kick in the groin from your steel toed
shoes. But this is a pain that I can take care
of, something that I can remedy. I am not into
pain, even personally inflicted kinds, so I had
to relieve myself.


Even as I stood in the mirror this morning
admiring the black eye that you gave me last
night I knew you would never touch me again.
And as I sucked blood from my split, swollen
lips I knew I couldn't stand another blow from
you. Not because of the fact that you promised
with tears in your eyes that you would never do
that to me again. Nor the fact that you put
your hand on the bible and swore to me that you
were going to get help. Not even the fact that
you got down on your knees and swore to God
that you would never lift a hand to me again.
Well your prayers were answered and no, you
will not be touching me again. I guess I just
had to play God and make sure of that myself.


Last night when I picked myself off of the
floor and fell into your arms it wasn't because
I wanted to, I just couldn't stand. It wasn't
because I wanted you to hold me, as you may
have thought. You picked me up carried me to
> > > > >> >
our bed and lay on top of me and kissed my
swollen face so soft and gentle. Even though
you brushed my hair from eyes and kissed my
eyelids, I didn't feel anything. And even
though I may have moaned when you licked me
between my thighs, I really didn't feel any
kind of pleasure. And when you put yourself
inside of me and I grabbed your butt and said
your name a few times, I was just helping you
get it over with. I moaned because your weight
was on my stinging ribs. So what that you asked
me what the fuck I was doing when I scratched
your back, I felt the urge. And when you went
to sleep, I laid there under you because I
couldn't move. When you finally rolled off of
me you were limp and you left your condom
inside of me. The condom you searched all over
for because you didn't want me to bleed on you
like I did last time you kicked me.


I woke up before you this morning and cooked
your breakfast like I always do. I hoped you
enjoyed the piss in your oatmeal and the blood
I sucked from my lip mixed in your jelly. I
watched you spread it on bread that I wiped my
ass with before I put it in the toaster. I
don't even want to tell you what I did with
those sausages. I spit in your coffee and
watched you eat, noticing the look on your face
because you knew something wasn't right. And
when you got through with your breakfast, I put
your dishes in the sink but I wrapped the knife
you used this morning in a napkin and put it in
my pocket.


After you left I laughed. I laughed all the way
to the bank and took out every penny and took
advances on all our credit cards. I donated
half of the money to a woman's shelter, all one
hundred and twenty-thousand of it. Now, you can
pay back all the other women like me, those who
had the strength to leave their man. Let those
women get a pool table or something, hell, they
deserve it. I took the rest and put it away for
my children.


I left some money for Greg so that he can pay
for the counseling he's going to need to
reverse the damage of seeing his father
slamming his mother into the refrigerator. I
sent the rest to Dana in college so that she
would never need to come back home when she
graduates. You are never going to touch my
children again, I made sure of it. No, I am
positive that you will not touch them again.


So, I figured that with me gone you would run
over to your little woman's house and tell her
the good news. So I went over there this
afternoon and I killed the bitch. I stabbed her
little backstabbing ass dead in her heart with
the knife you used this morning. And since
there was a lot of screaming and shit I knew
that the police would be there soon so I took
that nasty ass condom you left inside of me and
stuck it up in her ass. I know you didn't
actually kill her but you might as well have.
It's your fault that she's dead, so why should
anyone else take the blame but you. And since
you killed her after you just got through
fucking her it won't seem premeditated so you
will probably just get manslaughter and spend
the rest of your life in jail. They probably
won't sentence you to death. But you will be
ok. You got your high priced lawyers to defend
you.


The same lawyers that bribed a judge when they
had you on charges of embezzlement from your
firm. Remember you gave me those documents to
shred? Well, I shredded most of them. I got up
this morning and mailed the others I had saved
out in the garage to the State's Attorney. And
since you've already killed someone you
probably are going to jail for a long time
anyway, so those papers are probably going to
do much damage. But I had already mailed them
before I thought about it.


Damn, you haven't been this quiet in a long
time. In fact, I can't even remember when
you've been so quiet before. I guess if all
that I had to do was die to shut you up I
should have killed myself along time ago. So,
since I got your undivided attention, for a
change, let me tell you what I want you to do.
On one side of the computer screen there is a
gun with one bullet in it. One the other side
is the telephone. You could A: call the police,
turn yourself in and go to jail for the rest of
your life. Or, B, you can take that gun and
join me. It's up to you.


Don't worry about Greg, he is with your mother,
you won't seeing him again. You already killed
your girlfriend so she'll do you no good
either. You are about to lose your business and
you are going to jail. Your wife will be
mysteriously found dead in your office tomorrow
morning. My body is still bruised and battered
from when you beat me and your skin is under my
fingernails from where I scratched your back
last night. So shit doesn't look too good for
you now.


But as you said last night before you threw me
into the wall I am a bitch. Well, ain't this a
bitch. Oh, I know that you didn't think that I
was going to die all by myself now did you? I
already killed you motherfucker. You can either
got to jail and get fucked up your ass for the
rest of your life and have your man beat you
around your jail cell like you did me. Until
you die like me, after becoming the bitch you
claimed me to be. Or you could take this gun
and put one in your dome and kill yourself, it
doesn't matter to me. Remember we said until
death do us part right.


Moments pass. There is a click. One gunshot
breaks the silence and his body hits the floor.
The roses he brought begin to rise in a pool of
blood that spreads across the floor like a fan.
His wife steps out of the closet she was hiding
in and calls the police. She steps over her
husband, sits down at the computer and deletes
the message on the screen. She brings up the
suicide note that she wrote for him earlier.
She gets rid of the empty pillbox and calls her
mother ?in-law to check on her childr en. She
hangs up the phone and calls his other woman
and hangs up. The women calls back several
times but she didn't answer. The police will
assume that husband must have called her before
he shot himself. She practiced all the lines
out loud. When she heard the police pull up she
kneeled beside the man that had once promised
God that he was going to love and cherish her
and felt nothing. That man was gone long ago
and this body belonged to someone whom she
didn't even know. She didn't feel any pain
besides the tingling of her ribs. She had no
regrets either. She put him out of his misery
and ended her own misery with just one bullet.
Yet, she knelt there and screamed like her life
was over.