Beth stared at her image in the mirror. Strands of grey hair sticking out at odd angles and blood crusting in the wrinkles of her face like flecks of gold in a deep stream. She sighed, stripped off her clothes and stepped into the shower.
She let her mind drift back over the years as hot water sluiced over her sagging breasts and the gentle swell of belly where she’d grown three babies for her husband, Elwood. Beth hadn’t asked for much out of life, accepting without complaint her lot as farmwife and mother.
As the water began to cool, her nipples tightened and she ran her fingers across their firmness. Memories of a soft summer night spent in the arms of the pretty city boy who was staying at the lake cottage with his parents drifted through her mind. Of course the night ended quite abruptly when Daddy poked the pitchfork into the middle of their stolen kisses.
Turning off the shower, she stepped out and began toweling herself dry. Hip length hair, the only feature of her entire person that her husband admired, stuck to her body and dripped the dry spots wet faster than she could move the towel. Beth grabbed the scissors out of the medicine cabinet and started hacking. Long sheets of hair dropped to the floor around her feet. Her head felt light and free as she ran her fingers through the shorn locks.
Beth padded down the carpeted hallway towards the bedroom, marveling at the silence that filled the house. Elwood lay peacefully on the bed while she pulled a suitcase out of the closet, set it down beside him and began packing.
“You really should have listened to me last night, Woody. I told you I needed a vacation, but would you listen? Of course not. ‘We’ll take a vacation when I’m damn good and ready to take one.’ That’s what you said. Well, you enjoy your vacation right here at home and I’ll enjoy mine. Wherever I decide to go.”
With the suitcase packed, she slid her legs into the new jeans she’d picked up on her last trip to WalMart. She’d lost fifty pounds and Woody never even noticed. Not that he ever noticed anything about her except the cunt between her legs when he had the urge and whether or not she had his meals cooked and on the table when he was hungry.
Beth pulled on a bright red T-shirt with “Free Woman” printed across her chest in big white letters. She twirled around the room.
“I look pretty damn good for an old sow, don’t I, Woody?”
Woody just stared at her, his eyes nearly bugging out of his head, the slice of duct tape across his mouth smothering the curses he was flinging at her.
“It’s alright, I don’t mind your not answering. You never have anything good to say anyway. You want to know the biggest regret in my life, Woody? That I never fucked that nice city boy way back when. At least he noticed me, which is more than I can say for you. I never could figure out what my daddy saw in you that made him believe you’d make a good husband.”
She picked up the blood stained hunting knife from the dresser and moved towards the bed. Woody began to struggle against the baler twine that bound him to the bed posts, beads of sweat popping out across his forehead.
He went still as death when Beth cut a slit in the duct tape and shoved the end of a straw into his mouth. “Go on and drink. It’s just water. I don’t want you to get dehydrated before someone shows up to cut your worthless ass free.”
Woody shook his head.
“Oh, I wouldn’t dream of poisoning you, my dear. If you hadn’t tried to kick me in the head while I was tying you down, I wouldn’t have nicked you with the knife in the first place.”
Woody’s glare would have carried the weight of a double barreled shotgun.
“Oh, don’t look at me like that. If I wanted you dead, I would have just let you bleed to death, instead of bandaging you up. What I want is for you to lay there and think about my life for a change. I need you to realize exactly what you’re losing when I walk out that front door.”
Her husband finally took a few sips of water then jabbed at the straw with his tongue.
“Had enough?” asked Beth.
When he nodded, she set the glass of water on the night table, and stood up.
“Well, I can’t say that the last forty years have been fun, Woody, and to be perfectly honest, I’m damn glad to be shunt of you. You don’t need to worry if I’ll have enough money, I emptied the saving account and most of the checking account, so I’ll be quite comfortable.”
Woody’s face took on a wondrous crimson hue and he began to struggle again.
“Oh, and Woody,” she said as she reached the doorway. “I’ll call the boys in a day or two and tell them about your predicament. If I remember. You know how stupid I am about remembering what’s important to you.”
***
Bio: Sandra is a short story writer whose work can be found scattered about the ‘net in places like Beat to a Pulp, The Thrilling Detective, and Shotgun Honey. Her collection of short stories, “Deadlier Than the Male”, will be released by Snubnose Press in 2011.
Perfectly done!
I knew something was up when she started cutting her hair. Great build-up.
Good one, 40 years of pent up rage … the tension in this one was excellent.
I see Beth on a beach with cabana boys, enjoying umbrella drinks and steamy sex. Good story.
Nice-as always. Hope she has a good second life.
Rocking. Not too often you get a happy ending, either.
I really like this story. Crime doesn’t always have to be killing people and chopping them up. This hums with tension and I wanted to see this character win.
As soon as Elwood is described laying “peacefully on the bed,” the tension builds and builds until the surprising ending. Masterfully done, Sandra.
Thanks so much, everyone!
Sweet revenge. Well done, Sandra.
Cool story. Great tension