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- Story Listed as: Fiction For Adults
- Theme: Drama / Human Interest
- Subject: Pain / Problems / Adversity
- Published: 03/21/2022
Grace Whiteman’s husband came home at eleven o’clock pm on the stormy evening of the 16th of June, 2012. He was still wearing his suit from work, which had finished some seven hours earlier. His clothes were soaked, and his short black hair was stuck to his shoulders and dripping wet. His breath stank of alcohol and his eyes were filled with anger. Grace hid behind the door to her bedroom, wishing to escape her husband’s wrath.
Mr Whiteman was four years older than his young wife; he was also an alcoholic and an abusive, violent man. He was once very gentle and kind, but everything changed when she fell off a horse, causing her to lose the child she was carrying, the child he had wanted so desperately. He blamed her for its death and over time, became so tortured with grief that his aggression towards her grew. He soon became a much more sinister figure in the household, raising his fists to his wife, and painting her skin with dark bruises. Thankfully this night, Mr Whiteman, the vast amount of alcohol pumping through his veins began to weigh him down, and he retired to his quarters. Grace then went to her room, a small messy room filled with jumbled furniture. The vacuum cleaner was still in the room, having used it to clean up the shattered glass of the bottle he had thrown at her head that same morning. Well after midnight, Grace had finished tidying her room and curled up under her blanket, cradling her sore body, praying to God that her husband would not come to her bed that night. That following afternoon, he demanded that she drive him to the liquor store since he was too drunk to drive himself. The store was ten minutes away from their home, and she covered herself up as much as she could to hide the bruises, and she kept her distance from her husband, who stumbled along beside her, drunk and wobbly. She went to the end of the store and grabbed a bottle of wine that she knew he liked. Then, there were some noises and the sound of bottles falling, and she rushed back to the other side of the shop.
Her husband was yelling at a poor old lady, who she guessed he had bumped into and toppled over. She helped her stand up and gathered her things. Her husband shot her a devilish look, and it was at that point that she decided she had to rid herself of him, to get him back for all those years of pain and suffering he had caused her.
Grace decided that the only way she could truly escape from him was to have him taken away, to prison, to Timbuktu, to hell, to anywhere but where she was. She met with a friend of hers, and they discussed the plan. Her friend’s husband was a police officer, and at night, he would conduct alcohol and drug tests on the country roads just nearby. She decided that she would make up some yarn about visiting a sick relative, and if she came with him, she’d buy him an expensive bottle of wine. They would then drive past where her friend’s husband would be, and he would check them when he saw the licence plate. A little before the testing station, she would fake a stomach cramp and a headache, claiming she was unable to drive. Then her husband would take the wheel. Not enough alcohol in him to crash the car and kill them both, but enough that the police officers would arrest him.
She went home that day and spoke to her husband. It was a lucky day for her, since he was relatively sober, and agreed to accompany her on the journey. The plan went as smooth as butter, Grace faking a stomach ache ten minutes away from the stop, and her husband moved to the driver’s seat. Her friend's husband pulled them over and he nodded at Grace, then spoke a few words to her husband. Mr Whiteman tried to avoid taking the test but eventually obliged, and the test came back positive. The officer called over a friend and asked Mr Whiteman to step out of the car. Mr Whiteman flew into a rage and attacked the police officer, punching him in the jaw, before the other officer restrained him. Mr Whiteman looked at his wife, who seemed to have made a full recovery, and she moved back into the driver's seat.
“Bye, honey” she winked at him and drove away. Mr Whiteman’s eyes followed her, and he was trembling with rage, whilst also looking on with sadness. The police officers took him away, and he was sentenced for domestic violence and resisting arrest. Not a long sentence, but more than enough time for Grace, who filed divorce papers, to pack up her stuff, get on a plane, leave her country behind and start a new life.
No More(DigitalDialga)
Grace Whiteman’s husband came home at eleven o’clock pm on the stormy evening of the 16th of June, 2012. He was still wearing his suit from work, which had finished some seven hours earlier. His clothes were soaked, and his short black hair was stuck to his shoulders and dripping wet. His breath stank of alcohol and his eyes were filled with anger. Grace hid behind the door to her bedroom, wishing to escape her husband’s wrath.
Mr Whiteman was four years older than his young wife; he was also an alcoholic and an abusive, violent man. He was once very gentle and kind, but everything changed when she fell off a horse, causing her to lose the child she was carrying, the child he had wanted so desperately. He blamed her for its death and over time, became so tortured with grief that his aggression towards her grew. He soon became a much more sinister figure in the household, raising his fists to his wife, and painting her skin with dark bruises. Thankfully this night, Mr Whiteman, the vast amount of alcohol pumping through his veins began to weigh him down, and he retired to his quarters. Grace then went to her room, a small messy room filled with jumbled furniture. The vacuum cleaner was still in the room, having used it to clean up the shattered glass of the bottle he had thrown at her head that same morning. Well after midnight, Grace had finished tidying her room and curled up under her blanket, cradling her sore body, praying to God that her husband would not come to her bed that night. That following afternoon, he demanded that she drive him to the liquor store since he was too drunk to drive himself. The store was ten minutes away from their home, and she covered herself up as much as she could to hide the bruises, and she kept her distance from her husband, who stumbled along beside her, drunk and wobbly. She went to the end of the store and grabbed a bottle of wine that she knew he liked. Then, there were some noises and the sound of bottles falling, and she rushed back to the other side of the shop.
Her husband was yelling at a poor old lady, who she guessed he had bumped into and toppled over. She helped her stand up and gathered her things. Her husband shot her a devilish look, and it was at that point that she decided she had to rid herself of him, to get him back for all those years of pain and suffering he had caused her.
Grace decided that the only way she could truly escape from him was to have him taken away, to prison, to Timbuktu, to hell, to anywhere but where she was. She met with a friend of hers, and they discussed the plan. Her friend’s husband was a police officer, and at night, he would conduct alcohol and drug tests on the country roads just nearby. She decided that she would make up some yarn about visiting a sick relative, and if she came with him, she’d buy him an expensive bottle of wine. They would then drive past where her friend’s husband would be, and he would check them when he saw the licence plate. A little before the testing station, she would fake a stomach cramp and a headache, claiming she was unable to drive. Then her husband would take the wheel. Not enough alcohol in him to crash the car and kill them both, but enough that the police officers would arrest him.
She went home that day and spoke to her husband. It was a lucky day for her, since he was relatively sober, and agreed to accompany her on the journey. The plan went as smooth as butter, Grace faking a stomach ache ten minutes away from the stop, and her husband moved to the driver’s seat. Her friend's husband pulled them over and he nodded at Grace, then spoke a few words to her husband. Mr Whiteman tried to avoid taking the test but eventually obliged, and the test came back positive. The officer called over a friend and asked Mr Whiteman to step out of the car. Mr Whiteman flew into a rage and attacked the police officer, punching him in the jaw, before the other officer restrained him. Mr Whiteman looked at his wife, who seemed to have made a full recovery, and she moved back into the driver's seat.
“Bye, honey” she winked at him and drove away. Mr Whiteman’s eyes followed her, and he was trembling with rage, whilst also looking on with sadness. The police officers took him away, and he was sentenced for domestic violence and resisting arrest. Not a long sentence, but more than enough time for Grace, who filed divorce papers, to pack up her stuff, get on a plane, leave her country behind and start a new life.
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Lillian Kazmierczak
04/05/2022Yeah for Grace! Alcholism is an insidious disease, mix it with anger and violence it is terrifying! Unfortunately, not enough stories end like this. Thank you for reminding us all how precious sobriety and life are! A very well written story. Congratulations on short story star of the day!
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Gerald R Gioglio
04/05/2022Thanks for reminding us just how devistating alcohol abuse and addiction can become to self, loved ones, job and the community. A sad tale, with a redemptive ending. Nicely done, Jerry
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Shirley Smothers
04/05/2022A sad but too often true story. Some people just can't find a way out of these situations. Thank you for sharing.
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
Rich Puckett
04/05/2022Abuse to women and children seems to be increase if or maybe it's that we now hear about and before just didn't. It is a despicable thing and I am glad your person escaped and I wish that all women can find a way to escape
ReplyHelp Us Understand What's Happening
JD
04/04/2022I'm glad your character was able to extricate herself from that relationship. I wish all those in similar situations could do so as well. Thanks for sharing this story on Storystar, and happy short story STAR of the day to you.
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Help Us Understand What's Happening
DigitalDialga
04/05/2022Thanks so much, JD. I too really wish this for all the women in hostile relationships around the globe, and tried to reflect that in the writing. Ironic day really, it's the 5th here and it's my birthday haha.
Cheers,
DD
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