Now I lay me Down to Sleep..

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Lying here on this cot, all I could think about were my two kids. I wondered what they were doing, where there were. I wondered if my mom had gotten to them. It had been 48 hours since I got arrested. I called everyone I could think of, only for them to either hang up on me, or not answer the phone. I got up and started to pace the floor. I was in this tiny jail cell, and nothing made sense. I put my hand on my forehead, still trying to figure out what went wrong. I sat back down on the uncomfortable bed, and rested my head in my hands. My head started to throb, so I laid back down. I turn on my back so I could gaze at the ceiling. My eyes were heavy, but my mind still racing. I closed my eyes attempting to force myself to go to sleep. Images of two days ago started replaying in my head.

Rewind Two Days Ago

“Leanna, get in here now!” he shouted. My husband was arrogant pompus prick. He felt that because he came from and affluent family, he was entitled to talk to and treat people the way he wanted. I slowly walked to the living room where he usually remains until he’r ready to go to bed. “Yes Randy, may I get something for you?” I asked calmly. Without taking his eyes off the television, he replied “I want a beer from the fridge.” I sighed heavily. He was really getting on my last nerve. I mean he was less than two feet away from the kitchen. Why couldn’t he get up and get it? “I know you aren’t still standing there after I told you what to do.” he boomed. “Really Randy? You called me from upstairs to come down here to get a beer when you could have gotten it yourself? I mean you are right next to the kitchen.” “So? I wanted you to get it. I didn’t feel like getting it. Besides your fat ass could use the exercise anyway.” The sting of his words halted my reaction. He knew I had a weight problem and was very sensitive about it. Not that I was overweight or anything, I just had a problem keeping it steady. I was 160 lbs, most of which I carried in my hips and butt area. I had C- cups for breast, and a small pudge. It was barely noticeable to anyone else, except Randy. He was so critical of everything I did, said, or even ate. We had only been married for three years and already I was beginning to regret the words “I do.”

Randy and I met through a colleague of ours about four years ago. We dated for a year before he proposed. He was critical then, but it wasn’t to a point that would hurt me. It was more so shaping me to present myself in front of his family. I didn’t mind at the time, considering the close relationship he had with his mother. Looking back on it now, I wish I had paid attention to this sign. Maybe I wouldn’t have wasted three years of my life. As the marriage progressed, he felt it necessary to torment me. He would make fat jokes, or even talk about my freckled face. He would prance around in garbage bags insinuating that I was as fat as a blob. He ridiculed my cooking. He even went as far as tripping me from time to time, and then say things like “If your stomach wasn’t in the way, you could have seen my foot.” I spent many of my nights crying myself to sleep. I couldn’t figure out what happened to him. I know since I had my two sons, I put on a little weight, but most men like the extra weight. Not Randy, this just added fuel to his fire. Gave him ammo for his gun. I started to think he found pleasure in my pain. I started to hide my tears. Instead of crying in front of him, to let him know how much it hurt, I cried in the dark. I cried where ever I was free of criticism from him. I cried so much, that eventually I became numb to his insults. They hurt, but they didn’t affect me the same. Instead of crying, I pretended not be affected. It was hard, but I felt with much practice I’d get used to it.

After I had gotten the beer, I slammed it on the table, cracking the glass. I hadn’t realized how much my emotions had on my strength. He glanced up at me, and if my eyes were a flare gun, I swear he would have been burned. He turned his attention back to the television, and I stormed out of the room. A part of me felt somewhat relieved. Under normal circumstances, that act of anger would have warranted a fat joke or some other harsh insult. To my surprise he said nothing. He simply glanced back at the television. I’d be lying if I didn’t sense a bit of fear in him.

When I got back to my room, I finished organizing all the paperwork that was scattered all over the place. I made my way to the closet where clothes were strewn about, and shoes kicked about the floor. Since I couldn’t make out what was clean and what was dirty, I put all the clothes in the dirty clothes hamper and dragged it to the hall. An item of clothing had fallen off the top, so I bent down to pick it up. Just as I was returning to the upright position, I heard snickering from behind. I tensed up. “Lord woman your butt is as fat as an ox. Ever heard of a treadmill?” he mocked. Without turning to face him, I calmly walked back in the room and finished retrieving the rest of the clothes that had fallen off. I placed them on top of the dirty clothes, and dragged it down the stairs. He was still there, tormenting me and mocking me as I struggled with the heavy basket of clothes. This angered me. I gripped the basket tighter. I felt the blood in my fingers stop. Unbeknownst to me, an item of clothing had fallen off and I lost my footing and tripped down the stairs. All the clothes spilled on the floor. This gave him more ammunition. He laughed. He laughed so hard, tears started streaming down his face. I sat there on the floor for minute, waiting for the pain in my foot to subside. He continued to throw insults at me. When the pain eased enough for me to walk, I slowly got up and started to pick up the clothes. Once they were all back in the basket, I limped to the laundry room. After I put the first load in the washing machine, I glanced at my clock. It was almost 9 p.m. I head up to the spare bedroom, where I did my nightly meditation. This help me deal with Randy’s stupidity and insults.

After about an hour, I decided I didn’t want to sleep in my bed tonight. I was in no mood for Randy and his antics tonight. I had had enough for one day. Besides, my ankle was now throbbing more than before. I went downstairs to sleep on the couch. I grabbed a cover and pillow out the linen closet and made myself comfortable on the couch. I was in the middle of watching and episode of CSI:Miami, when Randy called out to me. “Leanna, it’s time for bed. Could you get in here?” “No. I’m not coming to bed. Sleep by yourself!” I shouted back. I laid there waiting for another round of insults. When there was none, my body started to relax. I focused my attention back to the television, where Horatio had just arrested some kid running through the park in a blood T-shirt. I felt my eyes getting heavy, so I closed them and drifted off to sleep.

The Day of My Arrest

I was awaken by Randy standing over me wearing a trash bag “Did the fat ox sleep good? Probably put a dent in the couch. I usually don’t allow outside animals on my furniture.” I sighed heavily. I groggily got up off the couch, and wiped the coal from my eyes. I looked around at the clock and noticed it was almost 11:30. Those pain pills I took must have had me super sleepy. Surprisingly, I felt good. Sleeping on the couch felt better than sleeping next to Randy. Probably because I was able to actually relax. “Can you get off your fat but and go make breakfast? Some of us actually have stuff to do. I wish I could lay around like a cow all day.” he scoffed. I chuckled, as I got up off the couch and folded the cover. I placed the cover and pillow back in the linen closet and went upstairs to brush my teeth and wash my face.

When I emerged from the bathroom, Randy was standing there with dots drawn on his face. “I look cute don’t I?” he mocked. This was the last straw. I had had enough of this. I got close enough for him to smell the mint coming from my breath, “Listen here you stupid arrogant prick. I am no mood for your childish insults and your lack of intelligence today. You really need to grow up. You are so used to being on your moms tit that you weren’t raised properly on how to be a man. That’s why you pick on me. You know I’m way above your level. You have done nothing to deserve the wealth you have. You know I could beat you at everything you ever try to accomplish in life. This is why you put me down to buld yourself up. To make me feel inferior to you. Well guess what Randy, I got news for you. Your insults don’t bother me anymore. I hate you. I hate everything about you. I despise the ground you walk on. You watched me fall down the stairs yesterday. You see my ankle? It’s bigger than that thing you call a penis in your pants.” I shot back slowly moving him closer and closer to the stairs. I could sense the fear in him. I felt good. I felt real good. The more I got off my chest, the better I felt. Looking at him cower in fear of me had me feeling like the queen of the world. When he got to the edge of the stair case, I pushed him down. “There let’s see how you like falling down the stairs and twisting your ankle.” I yelled. I stood at the top of the staircase watching his body tumble down the stairs. When he was at the bottom, I laughed. I laughed so hard, so cold, so sinister, my body started to tremble. 

My oldest son ran out of the room to find his dad laying at the bottom of the stairs motionless. I stood there nonchalantly as he rushed to his aid. “Mom, dad’s not moving. We have to call the police.” he shouted. I stared down at them blankly. My mind blacking out the last few minutes. I faded into my own world, blocking everything and everyone out. My sons had been a witness to my husband harsh treatment of me, so my none of them felt any sympathy for him. A few minutes later, the police were scattered in my home. I sat staring blankly at everything and everyone. My face expressionless. My heart and body numb.

A few moments later, I felt handcuffs being placed on my wrists. “W-w-what are you doing?” I asked snapping out of my trance. “Ma’am you’re being arrested for the murder of your husband.” “Murder? Who’s dead?” I asked. I stared at the police officer, with a glazed look in my eyes. She escorted me out to the car where I was hauled off to the county jail.

When I arrived at central booking, I was booked into the system then escorted to a jail cell in the back of the facility. It was cold, hard, lifeless. I felt like I was entering a new nightmare, just as I escaped the last one. Randy was a horrible husband and a nightmare to live with, but it didn’t compare to this. This made me wish I had killed myself. I tossed and turned the whole night. Sleep was impossible. I tried to figure out what my next move would be, although I didn’t have many options. I was alone in here. I’d probably be alone the rest of my life.

I hope you enjoy this short tale. This was written in response to today’s prompt https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/nightmare/

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