I love my
husband very much. He would do anything for me. And in a world of so much
uncertainty, the promise of loyalty is incredibly alluring. We met and married
because he wanted to protect me from the world that would destroy me. And I
took advantage of that desire. The love came later. But it’s there. And it is
overpowering some days. How much one person can love another. How it can eat
you alive when they’re lost or hurt. Knowing there is nothing you’re not capable
of if someone hurt them.
But the
world doesn’t operate on gut instinct and a need for revenge. Things would be
very different otherwise.
On Friday,
a man stood outside the correctional facility where James works and opened fire.
He had an automatic weapon which he purchased after being let go from his job
as a cook there. Two officers were killed, three people were injured, and the
man got away. It all happened in about ten minutes.
I waited eleven years to get the phone call telling me that my husband wasn’t coming home.
And when news came of what had happened and a moment later, my phone rang. I
almost didn’t answer it.
My heart broke
before I even accepted the call. And that pain became anger at the person who
took him from me. I swore – I actually swore – that I would end his life very
slowly.
James is
alive.
Casey
thought I was crazy when my legs gave out and I sat on the floor for rest of
the phone call. I was so relieved and barely heard the details.
Injured
in the line of duty and at the hospital waiting for surgery.
Not dead.
He’s alive.
His leg is pretty mangled but he gets to keep it and I will be with him through
every step of his recovery. I didn’t leave his side for four days. I smelled
like shit – living in a hospital will do that – and thank god Casey had the
forethought to come after school and bring a change of clothes and do her
homework in his room.
But then I
took her home. James reminded me that I have other responsibilities and my
being there would not change anything, but it would do wonders to be there for
the young girl at home.
He’s coming
home today. The doctors said there’s nothing left to do but recover. He’ll go
back for physical therapy and other treatments but he gets to come home. Thank
god for government jobs with decent health insurance. We’re not completely
paying out of pocket. Completely.
Words
cannot describe how happy I am that my husband is alive and safe and coming home
to me.
But someone
hurt him. Someone hurt the love of my life. Someone has eluded the authorities.
That someone is tied up in my basement.
He will
die. Slowly. I’m going to bleed him. And when he tries to die, I will save him.
So I can do it over again. And then I’m going to let Casey learn how long it
takes to drain a body of blood. How much sound proofing is required to drown
out the sounds of screaming. How much pressure it takes to sever a finger. And
then ten. She will learn how to kill and I will keep him alive as long as
possible. He will be a head, loose from its body. Begging for death. And I
still won’t grant it.
We’re going
to christen the new house with blood.
And it sure
as fuck will make me feel better.
As always,
dear readers,
Stay out of the basement
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