The Terrorist

The original domestic terrorist is the domestic abuser

THE TERRORIST

 

She gave up custody and ownership of everything, but won her peace.  Only she fully understood and knew this as an unequivocal victory and it forged in her a strength and resolve to never be at mercy or the victim of another human being.

 

The very last day of the war began with the recent addition of a ritualistic and sadistic reveille �" a pitcher of cold water that had been carefully, and with much gleeful anticipation, chilled overnight and poured on her  head like sadist’s hellish alarm clock.   But in the way of many an oft-repeated gesture, its degree of impact had gradually waned.  The rage and the stomach churning dread felt frozen or maybe it had just simply washed away with each occurrence.  Now, it was no more than the unpleasant sensation of ice cold water.  She had recently given up replacing the wet bedding with dry; at first,  because experience had taught her that it would be dry by the time she returned in the evening; and on this day, she simply dismissed it from her mind, stumbling first to the bathroom, and then to the closet to dress.

 

Her best-fitting black jeans, a favorite black turtleneck sweater and her cowboy boots seem to be waiting for her, as if these objects had been cut and sewn for this day.  She was drawn to them and there was no consideration or perusal of clothing options she might have normally engaged in.  She had grown accustomed to curbing all desire for coffee or food until she was well on her way to work, and she finished dressing with no suggestion of haste, having learned through past experience that this would fuel her enemy’s suspicion of flight, and give rise to further cruel and imaginative indignities.  Keeping her mind and face completely blank, she appeared calm as she silently endured the verbal assaults, and pretended to busy herself with small, inconsequential domestic tasks.

 

This particular morning, however, a sense of unease worked past her carefully structured facade, manifesting as a metallic taste on her caffeine starved  tongue, and she suddenly became hyper-aware of her enemy’s every nuance and movement.  She waited for the moment when she instinctively knew she could make a swift and relatively uneventful exit before the small and petty escalated into the terrifying.   She had begun to sense an increasingly focused malevolence in the weeks prior, but today’s onslaught felt particularly sharp.   

 

 His daily onslaught of threats and insults was delivered from his throne, the large easy chair he slept, ate and, literally lived in since his release from the hospital.  She could readily believe that he had heart disease, for surely no one with a normal heart could even speak of the atrocities that he promised her daily because of her obvious failures that would “make him” follow through.  It was his own fear of his illness that had confined him to this chair from the moment of his return, and it served to fuel his hatred and much-repeated resolve to cause as much pain to her as possible before she would ultimately “force” him to kill her.

 

Sensing the moment had finally arrived when she could safely depart, and under his continual verbal barrage, she tried not to race down the front steps to the car.  Only after she had settled in behind the wheel and turned the ignition, did she realize that he had veered from the established routine, and had followed her to the bottom of the steps.  For one heart-pounding moment, she waited for him to descend upon the car, pull her from its relative safety, and bring the whole matter to its foregone conclusion.  She held her breath as she watched him become more agitated, pitching his voice louder, boldly declaring his hatred and malicious intentions to the neighboring homes.  With all her concentration focused on not appearing frightened, she willed herself to continue to gently rev the engine, and calmly, trembling slightly from her efforts to keep her face expressionless, she met his eyes and threats with her unwavering placid gaze.

 

After several deep breaths, and struggling to quell the overwhelming need to cast aside all caution, she shifted into Reverse and slowly backed down the driveway and into the mercifully empty street. She hesitated before shifting into Drive, and turned her head to look once more at her enemy.  Suddenly, at this moment, his reality loomed more terrifying than any nightmare and larger than any fear she had ever known and in the next blink of her eyes, that perfect nano-second of time, the last vestiges of compassion for his illness and all the tattered remains of sixteen years of love and marriage vows were completely removed from her heart, clean and swift as a surgeon’s scalpel.  Her earlier narrow escapes from his promised punishments raced through her mind, jumbling and overlapping each other in a swirl of memory, until, like a sudden clap of thunder, only one clear thought remained, one that rang with undeniable and unshakable resolve:

 

“I am never coming back here”.

 

 

 

 

 

Reviews

[Xeru]

Wow. Thats a deep description of what its like to be a woman in a domestic situation. The poise to promise safety. The detachment from the physical to focus on the task at hand. The transformation of person into what is needed to survive. Powerful, powerful story.

Its strange how demons can take a person and make them like nothing you remember them to be. And then ultimately change you from the reactions of their possession. And in that reaction of possession. A new demon is born. That promises to look after the person and have their back.

The protection demon.. Rage.. Pretentiousness, Passive Aggression,
The offensive demon..Rage.. Insecurity.. Delusion..

Love has been losing the wars for a long time now. Is it the music? Society? The country? or the rulers of dark places that invade the eyes and ears?

Great piece. Very detailed and introspective into the view of one's self destruction and another's journey into the unknown...

[Carol Cashes]

Wow, back atcha. What a review! This is a true story and the writing of it exorcised a great deal of its impact in my memory. Demons are tricky and the Devil is a lie. It's sorta the reason I wrote Iron Justice, my very first attempt at poetry. I'm a much better story teller. Thank you so much for reading this.

[Ken Simm.]

One wonder if this is personal. As if I have any right. but the power that resides in this. The power in the telling. The power in the story; make me think that this happened and the protagonists are real. That being the case all I can say is well done in every meaning of the word.
I also like, (if that is the right word) your rededication to the trolls. May they rot in their own vitriol.

[Carol Cashes]

It is an exact accounting of the day I left a man I was married to and loved for 16 years...until he lost his damn mind. I don't have the mindset of a "battered woman", so, when it got physical and more threatening - I was out. Never went back, not even for my things. Those black jeans and my purse welcomed my 41st birthday with relief and a lot of newly found self confidence in my survival instincts. Thanks for reading this. And yeah...trolls should stay under their bridges...

[Ken Simm.]

I thought so. I hope you don't mind me saying so. I empathise with this becuase there are battered men. A poster in my old home city read Zero tolerance to violence against women. Someone altered it to Zero tolerance against violence.
Honour to you.

[emmajoy]

An extraordinarily powerful story.. if that's what you can call it. Tis like ceding another's anger into the dust and setting Self free. Your language, as i've already discovered, is finely tuned. Even this horror story has a distorted yet apt title.

Dear goodness, decision made you planned, you acted, you left. I think of your black jeans as being a form of armour, firm, tight around your body, almost a garbed (and business-like) weapon - maybe my own odd mind.

Sickness can make a human being cruel to his or her own spirit, but worse still, can persecute another's spirit til it fades into a shadow - as yours almost was.

But you'd had enough after all that time, decided, planned and escaped your own horror story. God willing, you're now making plans to create more and more of a 'happy ever after - day by day.' perhaps about courage?

[Carol Cashes]

This actually happened on February 2nd, 1997. I am now 19 years into my current marriage. While I did not pursue love, but I remained open to the possibility...after all, I knew I was good at it, with the staying power of a true committed partner. I wish I still had those black jeans...even if they'd never fit this older, ever widening body! They were empowering...

[emmajoy]

At least they helped you leave.. arrive.. and remain happy!

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

" The original domestic terrorist is the domestic abuser"- truer words never spoken. This horrific scene is described clearly, eloquently, honestly- absolutely riveting cat and mouse game. Psychologically sound reactions/abreactions of the protagonist as she (you!) dissociate until the final in-the- moment actof freedom. Courageous, fierce, magnificent. P.S. Love the black jeans Carol-they were your SuperWoman wardrobe statement!

[Carol Cashes]

Loooved those black jeans. And those cowboy boots! Thank you for reading. This was the morning after he was intent on killing me that I was able to defuse with what could only be Divine Intervention and my poker face. It was the last time I ever saw or spoke to him despite his many efforts: calling my job, telling them lies about me, none of which I ever denied or admitted. There was such a surreal quality - 16 years of marriage and no one knew anything except I just left and never went back. Not for my personal things, not for anything. No one understood it, and I felt no need to explain myself or him. I. Was. Done. There was a period of shell-shock, but when that passed, I never felt stronger or more confident. Me and those black jeans...

[Annette Pisano-Higley]

Brava girl! So glad you got out of that nightmare intact, by the grace of God and some great clothes...:))

[Samuel Dickens]

This is tense, disturbing, but in the end, releases a burst of hope, a chance for renewal. I guess I can't help but put myself into a story somewhere, and being one who has had two heart bypass surgeries, I had to oddly reject the obvious placement. Geez, I just don't know what's wrong with people. Was he like that before heart disease found him? My world was completely dumped upside down when I lost half my heart at age 43. I went from a corvette to a Yugo overnight, and it was a really hard pill to swallow. It's my nature to accept things I have no control over, so I didn't lash out at others. I didn't get angry at God. I just took it and hoped for the best. Not everyone is like me, of course.
I must say I'm really liking your writing. It's interesting, intelligent, and sooooo well put together.

[Carol Cashes]

Yes, he had some anger before, but it was seldom directed at me. In a three month span, he went from a macho, hard-working welder to being told he couldn't do anything, then he was diagnosed with diabetes. Final straw and I was the warm body. It should be obvious that I don't have a "battered woman" mindset, but was determined to honor my marriage vows. It's just that breathing became more important. He had made an attempt on my life that I was able to defuse and the story is about the following morning. Thank you for reading this. I did not seek counseling - I knew I was okay - and the writing of it was all the therapy I needed.

[Maria]

Wow, this is so mesmerizing and full of much anticipation, as well as a calmness right before the storm, and awaiting for it to come and make you change your mind, or send you far away. In the end, your resolution won, and you were able to face him, without a hint of fear and got yourself in that car, and utterly, looked back, once more, to bid him well, and off you went. Truly this is inspiring to say the least, and very heartfelt. I am happy you were able to get away.

[Carol Cashes]

Thank you so much. I had to write about it, and it was enough: never went to counseling or anything. I never saw or talked to him again. I am stronger for it and learned that most of what people tell you about yourself is their perception, in your heart you know what you are.

[Maria]

Wow, that is true. I fought for years to come to terms with all the negative stuff my dad, filled my head with, and literally I never doubted him as a young child, and took it as truth. But in the end, the older I grew, I started questioning, things, and well, things got nasty afterwards. He tried silencing me in many ways, but God grabbed hold of my life, and took me from him, for a while, in order to help me realize His truth and my dads lies. And ever since, my dad keeps saying negative stuff, but it no longer affects me as before and that drives him nuts. For now am trying to work things out, yet at the same time, we both are aware that if we cannot leave in peace, we will each seek a different path.

[Carol Cashes]

Pity him, everything bad he says about you is how he feels about himself. Who's more afraid of being robbed than a thief and who's more jealous than a cheater? God don't lie and he doesn't make mistakes.

[Maria]

Yes, I finally understood, that he simply is broken as well, on the inside and no one but God can help him, but he must be willing to let God Help him as well. So I pray for him.

[Carol Cashes]

True story. I never went back. Just started over with my purse and those awesome black jeans.