Cut, Alyssa Scott [mystery books to read .txt] 📗

It was a cold day when her smile burst. The start was with his yell. At first it was from the small things she did. Why won’t she keep the clothes washed? The plates clean? Floors picked up? He was a good man, though. She could stand to help more. She hoped that once he saw how hard she worked, he would go back to be the sweet man that gave her love notes and praise her hard work.  But, with time, it got worse. Where was she off to? Why did she need to talk to her friends? She had him, right? Her mom and dad held too much sway in his mind. She looked like she wished for that man. She must have dressed up just for him. Dress down. Why did she not dress up when friends were at their house? Dress up. It went on and on.

            Her voice, once proud and strong, went soft. She could not think of a time when she had a voice. What did she sound like? She tried. She did. But it seemed that she would set him off. No rhyme. No why. It was hard to deal with day by day. Then, he hit her. A slap for her voice out of turn. A punch when she made him look bad. A bone snapped for her “want” of a man she did not know. No more voice now. No more her. Just a ghost. A shell.

            She did not fight back. Not once. Would not dream that she could. Why? He was right. She DID look bad. She DID leave the house foul. She DID dress in her own way, no thought of him. She did not think of him. She thought of her. He said he could fix her. He said he could help. Their bond made it so. And so, he did. He helped. In his own way. Sure, his words were harsh. Yes, his hands hurt. But that was what he helped her to see. If she did not hear, she got hit. If she did not know? She got hit. It took her a bit, but she learned. She knew. She knew that he had a need. A need for her. So, she stayed.

            It was a shock when, the next day, he did not come home from work. What was he? Why was he not home? Who would make sure things were done right? Who would help her? When a man from he law showed up at the door, she found out the truth.

            “It seemed that he crashed on his way home in the gorge. He took too sharp of a turn. He did not make it. A shame.”

            It was said all the time, that word. Shame. She scoffed. Who was to shame? Her? She lived. Him? He was dead. For all the shame that she got from them, there was but one who showed up at his wake. Her. Had they no shame? Who would take care of her now that he was dead? Who would tell her what she had to fix? She would need help. He told her so.

            Since he was not here to help her, she tried to do the same things just as he would tell her to. Wake up. Fix her food. Wash up. Fold the clothes. Sweep the floors. Wash up. Go to sleep. Then do it all the next day. Then the next day. And the next. But when a week went by she found that it was not good. No one was there to tell her the food was not cooked right. Or that the house was not clean.

            It was not fair. Who said that he had to go and die? Who was he to make her see her flaws and then just up and leave? How could he? Who would need her now? There was no one. It was one small kink in the plan. No one was should have died. She just thought that he should need her more. Want her. Love her.

            She should not have cut those brakes.

Text: All rights reserved to Alyssa Scott
Editing: Alyssa Scott
Publication Date: 05-24-2019

All Rights Reserved