Broken - The Husband

One of the short stories from my 'Broken' collections.

It had been years since she had last crossed his mind, and it possibly would have been many more years to come if she hadn’t appeared on his door step that night before she’d taken her own life. He couldn’t imagine why she had felt the urge to see him, or even speak to him. Though he supposed she had wanted to see him more than anything, otherwise she would have called him up. He thought that perhaps she wanted to check up on him. See how he had been treating himself since she left, or maybe she wanted to rub her own success in his face. He was sure it was the latter, but either way he had been irritated at her decision to come and see him. Not only because he vowed never to see or speak to her again, but because of the way she did it. Who was she to just rock up, un-announced and invite herself into his life again? After all, she was the one of whom had left him. 
“Craig?” Her voice was calm, and reminded him of honey, just like it had in their years of dating and the first years " the good years " of their marriage. It left an ache in his chest, and mid section.
“Beth.” His voice was not as calm as hers, which irritated him further. He was sure he had moved on, but having her stand right in front of him in the house they had bought together many years ago, proved him wrong.
“It’s been so long. How have you been?” Although he couldn’t see the corners of her mouth rise into a smile of concern, and kindness, he could sense it. He supposed that when you know someone as well as he had once known Elizabeth you just knew. She was hiding in the shadows of the night, making sure the moon light didn’t hit her face. He didn’t mind though. The less he saw of her, the better.
“You’re not here to ask how I’ve been, are you?” He urged himself to push past her to the front door, before turning around to see her taking a step towards him.
“I guess not.” In the slight light of the moon, and what little light that came from the street lights outside of his house, he could see the sudden concern on her face. He waited for her to say something else, but when she didn’t he finally spoke.
“Then why are you here? I suppose it’s to tell me how wonderful your new husband is, or how well off you are now? Or perhaps it’s to see how awful my life has been without you?” He was beginning to raise his voice, and wondered where the sudden outburst had come from. He decided it was because of all the pain he had been through, that he had never been able to let out on her. Since he came home from work that day to find only a note explaining her situation, and how she didn’t ‘feel it anymore’, he had only seen her once, and that was at court to finalize a divorce he not only didn’t want but wasn’t sure why he was getting. And even then she never spoke a word to him. No apology, no wishing him luck, no ‘see ya old friend’. Nothing.
“I made a mistake then.” That was the last thing he ever heard her say, while taking a step closer to him, into the light, presenting her battered face, before turning around and walking away. He could never fully get the image of her bruised cheek bones, bloody nose and blood shot eyes out of his head. He’d never forgive himself for turning her away like that, when she needed his help, despite all she had done to him. She had come to him, for protection from her husband, from the beatings she had been receiving without anyone having the slightest clue. But after all, she choose to not be his responsibility anymore, and when he really thought about it, there wasn’t much he could do against a wealthy man like her now widowed husband. He knew that these days most wealthy men hurt their wives, but that was the problem with society these days.

Author's Note

There may be some grammar issues, I haven't had much of a chance to read through it. But please, I'd love to know what you think.