Hidden in Pink

Kill

The gun was trembling in my hands, as if I was being continuously electrocuted. It was a good question. Was I going to kill him? Was I going to shoot and kill my own husband? Am I going to kill my children's father? If I were going to be honest with myself, the offer was tempting, and it was sitting right in front of me tauntingly. All I had to do was squeeze the trigger. That's all I had to do.

Holding the gun  gave me something -made me something. I suddenly felt as powerful as I God. Ben was beneath me, a small earthling. He looked as if he were trembling I fear, even though he was standing perfectly still. I was a God, and Ben would fear me. The tears stopped. All I could think about was how unnatural this was. This wasn't supposed to be happening this way, or at all for that matter. I mean, in our home? I'm pointing a gun at my husband in the same room we made love in, the same house my children reside in. It's not right. Why was this happening to me?

Ben started towards me, snapping me out of my thoughts. "You won't shoot me," he said. I don't know if it's what he said or the way said it but the way he hissed it sends a shiver down my spine. My heart begins to ache, making it hard to breathe. I feel lonely now, as if I lost a partner of my team; a deep loneliness, one that is soul crushing. I don't know how to love Ben, and that pain destroys me from the inside out. I don't know how to love my own husband. Ben has opened a wound that he will never be able to heal. My brain is screaming at me to get out of here, but I know I cant. I wont leave him. He's mine.

He seemed free-flowing, like a ghost; here, but not completely. He was walking slowly, each step more menacing than the other. I love him, I love him, I love him. I knew I should've ran. I'm faster than him, if I'm quick enough I could make it past him and out of the house. But my feet seemed to have been cemented to the ground, holding me in place.

Out of nowhere Ben grabbed the gun from my hands, his sharp motion making me stumble into the window behind me. He eyed the gun, inspecting it as if it were a fine jewel. He laughed, "You really thought you were going to kill me with this?" He said, throwing the gun onto the bed. He came closer to me, so close our noses were just barely touching. I looked down at his lips, his lips who have kissed me so many times, gave me unspeakable pleasure, which told me the loveliest of words. How I wish they would now. How I wish we could just forget and for him to kiss me like this never happened.

Suddenly there was a sickeningly, loud crack echoed throughout the room, the noise startled me, sending me sliding down the wall, my body now curled up into a little ball on the floor. I looked up at Ben, droplets of blood pooled around his fist, the red dominating his light skin tone. I looked from him from the window which was now cracked. Had he punched it? Was he trying to punch me?