Ruined Marriage

It had been building up for years, so when his wife’s /fist/ connected with his cheek, everything came spilling out. 
He was on her, screaming and hitting while she did the same. The words they said were painfully different. 
“STOP PLEASE IT HURTS STOP I WANT OUT”
“I HATE YOU IT’S YOUR FAULT YOU’RE DISGUSTING”
Both abusive mentally and physically he beat her down, fists flying. The back of his mind was screaming at him to stop, but anger drowned it out and it just kept going.

When he grew tired he stood towering over her, panting a few seconds before turning, grabbing a beer and slamming the fridge door closed. 
He could hear her sobbing on the floor so he turned up the tv volume, football drowning out her broken cries.

Once he was thoroughly drunk he realized the front door had opened and slammed closed and he stood; he would drag her back kicking and screaming because she /belonged to him./ However the drink running through him overpowered his limbs and he fell back down, angry and disgusted. With her or himself? It didn’t matter.

He kept drinking.

The next morning he called out to her, angry and in pain, but she never came. They were out of beer.

His boss called, asking why he didn’t come into work. He yelled, cursing and insulting at the man. He was fired. Honestly he should have expected that reaction.

He broke his phone and the table.

His energy was spent by now so he stumbled back to bed, collapsing onto the pillow.

…What ever happened to them? They used to be so happy, but then one day… it was just gone. Every day spent together was tolerated more and more until the spark they had was gone. Emotions were tolerated and held in until… it became physical.

…It was three days until he had to leave the house, out of food as he was. Just about out of money too.

He felt eyes on him. Everyone was avoiding him in a wide circle, eyes down and arms to themselves.

This as well made him angry; he wanted to break something and yell at them, but before he could the aisle was clear. He stomped to the beer, but gripped it too hard and spurted all over his hand, arm, and clothes.

He gripped it harder, feeling the broken bottle digging cuts into his hand.

He didn’t move as small, shaking hands laid over his own, gently tugging at the crushed bottle.

“John… let go.”

“Come on John… go home. We’ve got you.”

“Deep breaths… that’s right.”

He was shaking with anger and fear and so many emotions. Everything was changing and day by day he was falling apart. His wife was gone, his money was gone, all his hobbies, his kids, hell even his happiness.

He hated that he was causing a scene, hated that this man and his wife were trying to help him, hated that people were about to call the police on him.

He took a swing at the girl, body tingling for her husband to hit him. It didn’t even happen; he just knelt next to her and helped her stand once more.

“John, stop. Please. It’s gonna be okay.”

“JUST LEAVE ME ALONE.”

But they didn’t; for days they didn’t. He couldn’t get them to leave. Every time he laid his fists on one of them they simply backed away, nursing each other’s wounds and holding their bodies close.

Why couldn’t he have that? That close bond and tender love. He didn’t understand. He was angry and scared and they wouldn’t leave him alone.

Finally he gave up, asking what they wanted. They said they wanted to help; he threw glass shards.

The next day he asked what they really wanted from him. Their answer didn’t change.

Finally, he was being evicted. Out of money, out of luck. The couple took him in; their home was clean and obviously had plenty of money invested in it.

“Why invite me here if you know things will break?” He had asked.

They seemed troubled; after exchanging glances their resolve hardened and they said it wasn’t a problem. They only wanted to help.

Two days later he finally broke down, sobbing. He was so pathetic, doing this in front of strangers. They simply held him, comforted him; it was humiliating.

But it felt good. After bottling his emotions up for so long it actually felt good.

Afterwards they sent him to bed like a child, but he didn’t protest; he was exhausted.

The next time they said they wanted to help, he confessed. The abuse, the drinking, the failed marriage. He cried again, an aftershock of last night.

“Oh John…”

“It’s gonna be alright.”

“You’ll see.”

He didn’t believe them, simply focusing on what they told him to do. Get a job. Make money.

His anger resurfaced a week later when they asked him to go to anger management. In the end, he went; in the end he was broken.

For awhile he assumed it to be a waste of time.

Until he received divorcement papers from his old landlord. He felt the anger bubble up, but it faded as fast as it came and he simply sighed and dropped the paper.

…That night at supper, Emily and Blake brought up pressing matters at dinner.

“John… please listen.” She asked as she always did. He raised his head tiredly and nodded. “We think it’s time you apologized to Grace.”

“…Why.” The outrage in his voice was obvious.

They spent hours on the subject; Emily and Blake argued that his wife was hurt, that she had been suffering just as much as he was. They said that once he apologized, he would feel better and so would she.

He knew they were right, but he argued for the last shred of his pride. Obviously he couldn’t deny them anymore.

They bought him a suit. Sleek and black. He was guilty; promises of paying them back dropped as he left the house, heart pounding.

He paused in the driveway. He almost turned around and went right back in, but kept going forward. He didn’t bother asking how they knew where Grace was. There wasn’t a speck of bad in those two.

He bought flowers on his way, hands shaky as he gave his mind something to do. By the time he reached her door, he had ripped apart the paper of the bouquet with his nervous rubbing.

He knocked; his nervousness slowly dissipated when nothing happened. Were they not home?

Thoughts of returning to Emily and Blake were squashed. The awkward apologies were bad, but working up the courage to do this again was too much to ask of him.

His fear suddenly spiked when the door opened to the angry face of Grace’s sister.

“What the f**k are you doing here?”

“I’m here to apologize.” He answered quickly, not really thinking. The rest of the house was silent. Grace was probably hiding. Hiding from her own husband.

“Ha! Ain’t that hilarious. Go away.”

She was about to slam the door, but he barely got his foot in to stop it, “Pleasejust let me talk to her. I won’t even come inside, you can leave the door cracked- I won’t touch it.”

“Oh stop with your manipulative bullshit, d****t!”

He was stronger than her, but Emily’s warnings kept filtering through his mind. “Don’t push it. Let her come to you. It’s like talking to a bird.”

Finally, at last, she threw her hands in the air and growled at him. “The moment you try anything, I’m calling the police. And that’s only if Grace agrees to come out. Now wait here.”

The door slammed shut and he fell silent, once again tearing at the bouquet. A bit later it opened just a crack.

“Say what you have to, but one wrong move and I’m shutting the door and calling the police.”

“…Is Grace even there?” He asked. Listening he didn’t hear anything.

“Shut up! Just say what you came to say then leave.”

He shook his head in frustration, but then took a deep breath. “Fine. Look I- I don’t…” His words were gone.

“What? Spit it out!”

“Stop! Let me think!”

“Watch your tone!”

He shut his mouth before he could snap back at her. He had forgotten how much he hated Grace’s sister. “Like talking to a bird…”

“Fine. Alright. Alright…

Grace. I’m sorry. I’m sorry for what I did and I’m sorry I hurt you. There’s- there’s so many more things I could- I should say to you, but… I can’t even- I don’t think I can even remember them all. All the time’s I’ve wronged you. So just- just… I’m sorry. Yeah.”

John’s eyes were down and it was silent.

“There. Ya said it, so leave.”

His heart sunk, but he stayed silent. The door hadn’t closed.

His attention snapped into focus as he recognized Grace’s voice.

“…I’m sorry too… but I. I don’t think we should see each other anymore.”

“Ah… okay.” John agreed to the terms. Her words hurt, but they made sense. Soon he would come to agree wholeheartedly with her.

“If that’s it, then will you leave now?”

“…Of course. Thank you.”

The door finally closed and John looked down to see the messy bouquet. He rubbed at it a bit more before setting it at the door step, turning, and leaving.

Back at home, Emily and Blake congratulated him with wide grins and orange juice. No beer for him. Not anymore, they said. He didn’t argue.

They ended up laughing and smiling for once, happy it was over. At least for now.

But still…

“Why are you both so… so kind?”

Even now, they smile. “Because a long time ago, and old man showed us this kind of kindness. We strive to be like him. And… you should too. Show love in even the darkest places.”

Blake smiled, “even if you hurt us, physically hurt us, we still changed you. It hurt, yes, but seeing the end is definitely rewarding.”

John shook his head. These people were crazy. But still, it was true. He and everyone around him were all still improving.

…

…Eight years later, he found a young man buying far more beer than what was healthy.

Author's Note

The characters in the story took far longer than what actually seemed to take place, mostly because I suck at writing. Recovery takes a long time and there’s setbacks and cons to the pros. Don’t be discouraged because there’s a way out of everything.