There was no time to lose. She stared at her face in the grubby mirror, pale and distraught. She had to do it this time. There was no other way out. It was a small bottle of cyanide, but it would take her ounces of courage. She looked again at her face, the fresh red welts still visible. She kept twisting her wedding ring around her finger as if it would give her the strength she needed.
"Janet, you good for nothing slut, WHERE IS MY DINNER?", her prisoner demanded.
It was now or never. As she moved towards the living room with the tray in her hand, the fear kept rising like bile in her throat. Her hands trembled as she lay the tray down, afraid to make the slightest noise.
One after another, he kept gobbling down morsels of food without moving his eyes from the blaring television. There was an unmistakable stench of alcohol and sweat surrounding him., and the storm outside could do nothing to relieve it.
Suddenly, his hands went to his throat and he began choking.
"What....is.....that?", he spluttered.
"Freedom", she said and put the bottle in his pocket.
