‘Murder’ she wrote.

The strong acrid smell of death was in the air, so palpable I could almost taste it. I felt the hairs on the back of my neck and arms stand.

A shiver worked its way down my spine, I perceived the rotten stench of death & and could almost taste the metallic tang of blood spilled each way and that. Goose bumps broke out on my skin the contents of my bowels protested, I swallowed down the nausea and the bile that threatened to spew all over. My eyes stung, and I realised I was fighting back tears.

The setting sun seeped in through the light curtains casting long ghoulish shadows on the scene and by the lumination of the dusk light i could make out the distinct form of the body lying lifelessly on the floor.

I was the key witness to a first degree murder count. She was my friend. She was his wife. He was her husband. Now he laid still and harmless in the pool of blood oozing from the cut in his head soaking into the rich Belgian rug still new.

They had been married for barely a year.
He was her abuser, she was his victim and in a matter of minutes he just became her first victim. The evening had started out so good at least for me.
Robert my four year boyfriend had finally proposed and I was so happy and very excited and eager too. I couldn’t wait to tell and flaunt my ring to Grace, she did the same to me when she got engaged. I was a regular visitor to their house so I knew my way around. And i also knew that her husband was supposed to still be at work. He had told Grace to stop working in the public relations firm and become a full time house wife because he was earning more than enough to take care of her and the kids when they eventually come along. She had obliged him.

In my excitement I burst into the parlour ready to shout a “surprise surprise! Guess what girl” to Grace when I was confronted with a sight that chilled me to the bone and stopped me in my tracks.



He took her up as easily as though she weighed nothing more than a paper and crashed her onto the center table his left hand grabbing her neck in a choke hold squeezing the very life out of her, his right hand going straight to his belt clasp as I assumed he was going to flog her with it.

He undid the clasp, unzipped his trouser and in one swift fluid motion that seemed well practiced and told me he had done this countless of times and was a master at it, he tore away her underwear and forced his way into her ignoring the feeble attempts she made at throwing him off her, I watched dazed as though in a dream, I couldn’t move or shout or do anything. I was frozen in shock and watched as though it were a movie. Grace victim of rape being raped again by her husband. Again. Relieving it all over again. But her hands were moving searching, trying to grab at something and ended up grabbing air.



Then like victory her hand found something, raised it and landed it on his head. Hard. I heard the ‘thwack’ sound as the object made contact with his head and the crack resonated in the now quiet room.

He went stiff like a man experiencing the height of orgasm as the shock spasmed through his system jerking him to a stop. She pushed him off her like a sack of potatoes, got on her feet before she broke down and started crying.

Letting out heart and gut wrenching sobs that shook her whole being. Still I stood frozen, shock rooting me in place. She looked up still in that haze and said
“This is not the first time…or the fifth or fiftieth i’ve lost count”
Then she stumbled her way to the bedroom then into the shower as I heard it come on….

I dropped to my knees and cried. I cried for her, I cried for me, and I cried for the circumstances that led to this.
For her for me and for all the women the world over who are victims of domestic abuse and violence. Some who were not so lucky as my friend and some who are living the nightmare right this moment even as I write this.
I cried and my body wracked with sobs. That evening i cried every tear left inside me after i vowed never to cry again when I thought a broken heart was the worst that could happen to anybody or woman.

http://gistity.com/short-stories/murder-she-wrote/