Freedom
“Aw what the hell is this, Martha? I told you no more toys with some assembly required. The little bastards just break them anyway.”
“Sorry, hon. It was something they really wanted.” She stood in the doorway of her bedroom, waiting for him to start building the toy.
“And batteries not included? Tell me that at least you thought ahead enough to get batteries. I’m not putting this damn thing together just to hear whining ‘cause it don’t make noise!”
“Of course I got them. They’re in the bedroom.” Martha kept her voice sweet as possible. It wasn’t too difficult, she had almost ten years of practice saying just the right thing in just the right tone of voice.
Too nice and she was being patronizing. Not nice enough and she didn’t respect him. The line was very vine. She wasn’t walking a tight rope every day. It was a damn fishing line.
But it was okay. All of it was. Soon he’d have his Christmas present. Right at midnight. It was the most special gift of all.
“Well don’t just stand there staring at me. Get the batteries.” Jake was knee deep in parts, throwing them aside and searching for another. “Did you search the store for the toy with the most parts or something? This is asinine.”
She had. It was a tiny bit of enjoyment, perverse though it was. “No, Jake. It was what the kids asked for. I’m so sorry. While you’re working on that, I’m going to get your present wrapped. So don’t come in the bedroom. Okay, darlin’?”
All he gave her in response was an annoyed grumbling and cursing about parts and instructions in Spanish. So she slipped into the bedroom and closed the door behind her. Slowly she exhaled, expecting nerves to kick in. There wasn’t any.
Well, they’d hit soon enough. First she had to get Jake’s present ready. She knelt down on the floor and grabbed the suitcase from under the bed. Inside was the special case that held his present.
Her good friend Jean had passed it on to her. It was the best type of present there ever was. Sure, some assembly was required – but Martha had practiced the assembling for almost six months now. Every day.
No batteries included. They weren’t necessary. This toy didn’t require batteries.
From the next room came the continued grumbles and cursing. Even through the closed door and over the occasional metallic click of her task she could hear him.
As always his volume was increasing. Soon a piece of the toy would fly across the room. Maybe it would imbed into the drywall. Martha would be expected to clean it up and fix the drywall before the kids woke in the morning.
It would never get that far. She screwed the final piece into place and stood.
Still, no nerves. How interesting.
By the time she walked back out into the living room, Jake was trying to slam a piece into place. The wrong place.
“Jake.”
“You stupid bitch. I told you not to get anything that required assembly.”
“Honey. Don’t you want your present?”
A piece of the toy slammed into the floor and he stood up slowly. “You think I care? You never get me the right thing. Your allowance isn’t big enough…and your stupid hand made gifts are always awful.”
“Well this one is real special.” Martha smiled big when he turned around, keeping her hands behind her back. “It’s going to mean the world to me and the kids.”
“What do I care about that?”
“See, that’s the thing. You don’t. And now, I don’t care about what you think. Won’t have to anymore, neither.” She took a few steps back, unable to stop the grin that was splitting her face in two. In a heartbeat she pulled the gun from around her back and aimed it at his head.
Maybe he was trying to attack, or yell, she wasn’t quite sure. Either way he didn’t get far. The bullet pierced right between the eyes and he dropped like a stone. The silencer did its job and the loudest part of the moment was him hitting the floor.
Just for fun she fired two more shots into his head.
“Merry Christmas, you bastard.”
With a sigh of relief, she went back to her bedroom and began the painstaking process of cleaning the gun. Each piece was carefully laid back into the case as she took it back apart.
For ten years she’d tried to make something out of their marriage. In return she’d been mocked, beaten, and turned into a virtual slave. A year ago he’d started to turn his wrath onto the kids.
Her babies.
Well, that was never going to work. That was when she’d started to listen to her neighbor Jean. Jean had moved in four years ago. Within weeks they’d been friends, and within months Jean had known the truth of Martha’s marriage.
It was Jean that had given her the gun. Told her the tale of it being passed from victim to victim for the past twenty or thirty years. This precious weapon had killed many a worthless pig like Jake.
Now it was her turn.
First she would clean up Jake’s mess. Put him down in the basement and let her kids have a wonderful Christmas day. After that they would pack up the kids and move on to another town. Jean would clean up the house for her, leaving nothing behind for the cops to follow.
One day Martha would pass on the gun as Jean had done for her. As she looked into the mirror and straightened her hair she smiled. The first relaxed, genuine smile she’d seen on her own face in years. Yes, she would pass the gun on.
“Everyone should have a day as wonderful as this one. Merry Christmas, Martha. You are free.”
*~*~*~*~*
This Challenge came from Tara, who gave me this prompt: Some assembly required, batteries not included.
