She stood there over his body,
Wiping blood from her nose
And letting her tears dry.
Still, she stood, over his body,
With a claw hammer in her fist
And a prayer of retribution in her heart.
He’d gone too far countless times.
How was this time any different?
This time she was finally broken.
She would kill him.
What about the kids?
Better orphans than constant witnesses.
The claw hammer was perfect.
Sixteen ounces of forged steel
Against a head home to hate.
Wounded. Drowning in fear.
But the cycle stops here.
“It’s him or it’s me.”
If not him,
Then it WOULD be her.
He deserved to finally. Fucking. Die!
He deserved this! Every. Last. Blow!
Anything less would only enrage.
It would awaken the monster.
She would endure even worse horrors…
Was this hammer heavy enough?
Was she?
Could she kill their father?
Steeled and resolved,
Eyes crusted with tears,
She let the hammer fall.
A thud on the floor, hollow as their love.
Silence. She collected her boys.
A cycle finally broken.
“This is no way to live,
And it sure as fuck is no way to die.”
