text: the words moved through her from years past. Memories of her parents as they knelt next to her and helped her say her goodnight prayers with her before tucking her into bed surfaced, and a lone tear escaped the corner of her eye. And now? She still said them. She felt she *needed* to say them, fearing him the way she did. Yet at the same time, like a malignant tumor ready to burst, she knew deep within her that it really wasn't her that needed to pray. It was him. Wasn't it? All the abuse she'd taken from him since they'd been together, and when was enough supposed to be enough? How many times had she heard, *"I"m sorry, baby.... I swear by all that I hold holy, I'll never do that again..."* she'd lost count. Just as she'd lost count with the numerous times she'd run away from him, only to have him find her and bring her back. And then all hell would break loose. It would literally be DAYS before she'd venture outside, allowing the bruises to heal. This night had been like all the others from before. She became jumpy and paranoid with each passing hour. More so when the time she could usually expect him home came and went... hours ago now. Night had settled comfortably, like a well worn jacket, and she began to prepare herself for the worse for when he *did* finally come home. It was a homecoming that she wasn't looking forward to, but knew it to be inevitable at the same time. Pacing the living room with movements that were quite agitated, her arms would move to cross over her chest only to fling themselves away and to her sides. The prickling began to tear itself piece by piece away from her a little at a time, what little coherency she had been able to cling to was now slipping away from her. Leaving her with a thought that no one could help her. No one would help her. She had only herself to rely on. As it had been since the death of her parents. Clouded hazel eyes roamed frantically over the living room, searching for some sort of weapon to protect herself. She knew how it would start, it was always the same. He would come stumbling in through the front door and bellow her name. The rage could be heard in his tone, the intensity of it deafening and drowning out the soft pleadings for him to *Please... don't do this... you promised... you promised that you wouldn't...* She found it better to not run from him, the pain that he would cause when she did run, that much more intense and hurtful.. spiteful even. Yet somehow she knew that tonight would be different. She wouldn't allow him to do this to her anymore. She couldn't. Her peace of mind, her very sanity as she knew it to be, was slipping over an edge where she would never be able to find herself once she fell. She remembered the gun at one point, hearing his truck pull into the driveway, she quickly made her way to the hall closet and retrieved it. Checking to see if it were loaded, she breathed a sigh of relief, her hands shaking as she closed the door and made her way back into the living room. To wait for her "punishment" as he called it. She never understood what she did wrong, and to him it never mattered. Everything about her was wrong, though he said he loved her. She felt her heart begin to thump loudly in her chest... beating wildly to the point where she thought she might swoon. Her breathing became more ragged, her cheeks flushed... excitement or fear? She didn't know, perhaps a combination of both. Or maybe it was because she knew, deep down, that tonight she would suffer no more. *"Abigail!"* his voice boomed and echoed as soon as he entered the house, slamming the door behind him with a bang, turning from the foyer and into the living room where he stops, seeing her standing there with her hands behind her back, merely looking at him with those hazel eyes of hers. Saying nothing, as usual. Shy little meek mouse that she was. *"Come here,"* he said softly. Abby shook her head, accenting the motion with one word, *"No."* Coal black eyes seemed to burn as he looked at her, his anger already surfaced on the ride home, the fury brimming and then spilling over at seeing her, moving out of control at her disobedience. The amount of alcohol he had consumed seemed to not hinder his movements, for he was right there before her before she knew it, breathing his fetid breath into her face, glaring at her, whispering in an ominous tone, *"Looks like you really deserve to be punished tonight, doesn't it Abigail?"* his hands moved from his sides to wrap around her slender throat. His thumbs pressing into her windpipe. Her eyes bulged and she gasped what she though would be her last breath. She felt her strength ebbing, and her eyes fluttered only to open and gaze back into his own. Her own arms moved from behind her, the sound of the gun being removed from it's safety position lost in his anger, his concentration only what he was doing to her, a smirk played over his features and he grinned at her with malevolence. Her lips began to move as both hands gripped tightly the butt of the gun, bringing the barrel of the weapon directly into his stomach. Soft words and tears began to spill from her lips and eyes as she pulled the trigger once... ...twice... ...a third time... a fourth time... ...a fifth and then final time... *Now I lay you down to sleep, I pray the Lord your soul to keep. Should you die before you wake, I pray the Lord your soul to take...