Sammie Wilson

 'A professional writer is an amatuer who didn't quit' - Richard Bach
I didn't quit. 

My Journey - Free Fiction

Calm Before the Storm

Posted by Sammie on June 12, 2012 at 8:25 PM

I have never feared for my life until I met him.

At nineteen, I was a naïve girl with dreams of having the beautiful house with a white picket fence. I don’t have the white picket fence but I do have the beautiful house and believe me, it comes with a price.

Facing the sound of the ocean, I listened as the white wash slammed against the rocks. The air was crisp, moving across my flesh leaving goose bumps in its wake. I could see the dark huddle of clouds out at sea and knew we’d be getting a storm soon, which meant I had to hurry.

Tightening the shawl across my shoulders, I stepped back into the house and closed the glass sliding doors. The timber floor was cold against my bare feet as I moved up the stairs and into my bedroom. Just as I got the suitcase down from the wardrobe, my mobile vibrated from the back pocket of my jeans.


“I’m just making sure you’re still going through with this,” Krista said in a gentle voice that betrayed the bluntness of her personality.

“I’m packing now.”

“I have everything you need. I’ll meet you at the bus like we discussed, okay?”

Fear wrapped around me like a straitjacket. “I’m not sure I can do this Kris.”

“Yes you can.” Her voice hardened. “You know what will happen if you don’t.”

And I did know. Ben would go too far one day and I would die.

Sighing, “I know.”

After shutting my phone, I started packing leggings, jumpers and jeans for during the day. The night’s chill was cold enough for two layers so I concentrated on comfort and warmth rather than style. In the bathroom, I picked out half a dozen must-have toiletries and made sure I had two extra pair of shoes. I searched my jewellery box taking only what was expensive as my mind wandered, imagining the reaction Ben will have when he finds me gone.

Shaking my head, I pushed the thoughts deep inside me along with the fear and kept going until my bag couldn’t fit anything more. After that, I wheeled the bag down the stairs, ignoring the marks I was leaving on his precious varnished floor and took one last look around.

I stood in the middle of the lounge room and thought about what Ben was like when we first met. He was respectful and kind, trustworthy, loyal and completely in love with me. He bought this house just because I said it was beautiful. I told him how I’d love to see the morning sun reflect off the calming water across the road. How I’d love the smell of fresh ocean air drifting through the open windows. How I’d love to sit on the balcony enclosed in the safety of his arms watching as the sun dipped below the horizon. Next thing I know, he’s handing me a set of keys and sliding a ring on my finger.

I put a lot of work into making the house our home. And now I was leaving it all. I was leaving it because my blood has been spilled on the blue leather sofa. My body has been broken on the round oak coffee table, my legs unable to hold my weight in the bedroom. He’s stolen all the beauty, tainting it with pain.

Taking a deep shaky breath, I turned to leave and came face to face with Ben.

The fear that churned my stomach all morning was now frozen terror. The look on his face was enough to make the hairs on the back of my neck stand on end. One corner of his lip curled up into a smirk, enjoyment dancing in his hazel eyes.

“It’s cute to think you can get away from me,” he said, his tone even. “And I got to say you have more guts than I gave you credit for. I didn’t think you would go through with it.”

“You knew?” Though, it wasn’t a surprise. Not really.

“Of course I knew. What sort of a man would I be if I didn’t know what my fiancé was doing all day?” I kept my eyes to the ground and didn’t answer, assuming it was rhetorical. “What sort of man would I be Lexi?” He stalked toward me.

“I don’t know.”

The slap was a quick sting to my cheek. “I wouldn’t be much of a man at all.”

Closing my eyes to stop the tears from flowing, “You’re not much of a man now,” I clenched my fists, knowing that my words were going to get me killed.

“What? I didn’t hear you.” His fingers curled around my chin, yanking my face so our eyes connected. I let every ounce of defiance I had creep into my expression. I couldn’t stop now, I’d come this far and I realized that I would rather be dead then live the life I was living. I wasn’t going to do it any longer, and if that meant him killing me than so be it.

“Are you challenging me?” Ben asked amusement in his tone.

I ripped my face from his hand and took a step back from his imposing bulk. “No. I’m just leaving you,” I said, my voice a little stronger.

He sighed and I watched as he unclipped his holster, pulling out his on-duty weapon. “I can’t let you do that,” he said, with a calm that gave me the chills. “You’re mine and I’m not going to just let you walk away from me.”

“If you kill me you’ll go to jail.”

His chest shook with laughter. “I’m a detective Lexi, I have a hundred ways I can kill you and no one would ever find your body.”

“I have pictures of what you’ve done to me, they’ll find them and know it was you who did something.”

“That’s true.” He used the barrel of the gun to scratch his head, walking toward me once more. “But believing I’ve committed a crime and proving it are two very different things in a court of law.”

With only a foot between us, he pointed the gun at my chest. My heart was beating wildly against my ribs, my lips trembling with a fear so thick it threatened to close off my airway. The urge to shut it all out was too strong but I resisted, knowing it would fill him with a satisfaction I didn’t want him to have. I stared into his eyes and waited.

But he didn’t pull the trigger. Instead, he punched me in the head. Lucky for me, it was his left hand otherwise I’d be unconscious.

“I’m not going to kill you,” he said, putting the gun on the coffee table as he leaned over my crumbled body. “I love you too much to lose you. I’m just going to teach you a lesson.” He straightened himself back to his usual six foot height and kicked me in the stomach like someone would a soccer ball. As I was battling to breathe, he grabbed a fist full of hair, and dragged me to my feet. The calm I’d seen earlier was replaced with the kind of anger that made vomit line the walls of my throat, burning to come out. “You are mine.” He snarled in my face. “There is nowhere on earth you can go that I won’t find you.” His slap vibrated through my body as my legs went out from under me, pain exploding in my cheek, stomach heaving as I managed to get on my hands and knees to slowly crawl toward the table. Before he even knew what I intended, my fingers curled around the discarded weapon. It was heavy in my hand as I made my aching body stand to confront him.

His eyes widened slightly as my arm extended toward him. Remembering his lessons, I clicked off the safety and before he could dive for me I squeezed the trigger…twice.


“Emergency,” A woman answered. “Police, Fire or Ambulance?”

“Police,” I said, my voice as detached as my emotions.

Seconds later, “What’s your emergency?”

“I just killed my fiancé.” I gave the address, hung up the phone then limped from the house.

A hundred meter’s down the street I sat down on a steel bench, watching as the waves slammed into the rocks in a harsh attack. The rumbles coming from the approaching dark sky drew closer but instead of leaving I stay sitting, patiently awaiting the fury to descend.


Categories: Short Stories

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