Captive

Without Opportunity

Most are born with the best of gifts, the greatest power that can be given to us; the power of decision.

That power shapes our life. A "yes" or a "no", good and bad decisions are the ones that forge our path. There are also events that get out of hand, we assume those and try to lead them in our favor. But the most important, the moments of complete transcendence, moments that make a one hundred and eighty degrees turn on life. They are moments of change, of transition, turning points. Those are points that are not forgotten.

That moment came into my life as I saw the empty eyes of the person who was going to take my existence into his hands.

Dennis, my husband. He squeezed his right hand on my neck forcing me to open my mouth to get a little air into my lungs, his left hand was the one that covered my mouth wanting to suffocate me. This time he wasn't showing any kind of mercy, he wasn't even using the usual threats. This time he came to kill.

I thought how easy it was to close my eyes and wait for him to finish for good. Two years of sheer misery had already passed and this was how it was going to end. The turning point was when there was an insistent knock on the door of the house. I knew that no one was coming to help me, but they gave me what had never been given to me; an opportunity. The door kept rattling, distracting Dennis from his assignment for the day: Kill me.

He released my neck and pulled me by my hair onto the bed. I gulped air, choking on it, feeling dizzy and weak. I did not put up any resistance. He clasped my hands together and awkwardly tied them with his tie at the base of the bed. He was drunk and high, making the biggest mistake of his life; not tightening the knot.

The knocks on the door did not stop, they were distracting him and the opportunity was growing.

"Don't move!” He growled low, his voice full of contempt. I lowered my eyelids and waited for him to close the bedroom door. For a long moment I didn't move, I kept my eyes closed and waited for him to come back to finish me off. But the helpless image of my father popped into my head and shook me out of hell.

In absolute silence I shook off my right hand, the loop of the tie was loose and the thinness of my hand made it almost simple. The knot that was holding my left hand was tighter, I very carefully loosen it and finally released my left hand.

If Dennis came back and found me disobeying him it was going to make it even more stormy for me. As if in a trance, I went to the closet, and from the back, I took out one of his baseball bats. My face, neck, arms, everything hurt deeply, but if I didn't do something, he was going to come back and kill me himself.

I held the bat above my head and with shaking hands positioned myself just behind the door. And wait. I was beginning to have doubts about what I was doing when the door opened. Without thinking and with all the accumulated fear of years of suffering I hit him on the head. To my regret, he didn't fall, he didn't even wobble, he just turned around with his eyes brimming with hatred.

"f*****g b***h!” I almost felt his hands on my arms, when I picked up the bat, and instead of hitting, I shoved it in his face using all my body weight. I hit him just above his lip and watched in amazement as he started to bleed. Wide-eyed I shoved the tip of the bat back into his face. I clearly heard something creak. The scream he let out filled the room with pain. He kept his bloodshot, empty eyes on mine. With a clenched fist he hit me in the stomach that took out the little air that kept me standing. I fell leaning behind the door with the bat in my lap. The force he used to hit me made him stagger, yet he still managed to kick me in the leg.

At that moment the unexpected happened, someone or something was giving me the opportunity to fight ... to live. By the time he was propelling himself for the second kick, his eyes closed and he fell headfirst with all his weight. His face bounced off the wall I was leaning against and his upper body was caught by my legs. Instinctively I pulled my legs up to my chest, managing to shake him off me. Time stopped and for a few seconds, I waited in silence. Nothing happened. He stayed on the floor with his eyes closed. The only thing that broke the silence was my heavy breathing.

After a while I dropped the bat and brought my hand to his mouth, when I felt his breath on my fingers I quickly backed off. The fear returned with renewed strength; I turned to take the bat again, I pushed myself and on all fours, I got away from him. Incredibly, even unconsciously he would not let me go. I guess he felt my absence because the moment I tried to get up I felt his hand on my ankle. I gasped and without looking at him I turned and hit him… and I hit him… and I hit him again. I hit him until my arms stopped responding.

Tired of everything: of physical pain, of mental ache, of feeling my spirit shattered, I kept my eyes closed and curled up against the wall, moving away from his inert body. I didn't open my eyes and let unconsciousness take over my little sanity.

I woke up sore and with my hands clenching the bat. For a moment I didn't know where it was until I focused and saw it.

I got up shaky and without letting go of the bat I walked away. Consciousness came little by little and for the first time, I saw around me. Everything was splattered with blood; my blood, his blood. He was still inert on the floor, with all his limbs stretched out and his half-open mouth stained with blood. A wave of relief washed over my body and for the first time in almost two years, I took a deep breath and filled with peace.

I was going to go to jail and it was very likely that I would never get out, but for the first time in years, I breathed in peace.