Friday, May 21, 2010

The Escape Artist

That morning she had left a change of clothes in the trunk of the car, had thrown a bag of diapers in the recycling bin outside, and had quietly made a phone call from the laundry room. She whispered into the phone that she needed to be picked up in the middle of the night. She was certain it would be her only way out. These were the thoughts racing through her mind as she diced the tomatoes for the spaghetti dinner expected on the table in half an hour sharp.

She was afraid He would see her hand shake. Her baby was sleeping in the crib just down the hall. Focusing on the sound of his steady breathing, she finished making the sauce and preparing dinner. She knew he would be up soon and everything needed to be on the table before that moment. He, her husband, would be home and expectant. He deemed it unacceptable not to welcome the man home properly.

A spotless house, the smell of dinner and dessert, and a wife happy to meet his every whim anywhere and in every way was the only way he believed she was being faithful to him. Not doing so or doing so without a smile was disastrous. It was painful and He became reckless, endangering her life..... and last night, the life of her child.

The child's needs would always come last. The child. He never referred to their son as His, even though he undoubtedly was His. She was afraid to make eye contact with the cashier or speak to the police officer who greeted her as she walked home. What opportunity she have to find a lover? So she lay claim and took all responsibility for this child. Her baby; he just had to cry out in the middle of the night.

Her babe would. Her little boy was only two months old. "A good mother would nurse her child," He had instructed her. "But, she should be discreet." Therefore, she was expected to nurse her son only in his room with the curtains shut. Tonight, she would go to her little boy when he cried out, give him some of the Benedryl carefully hidden in the seem of his teddy bear, and then nurse him to sleep. She would gingerly carry him out of the house. If asked where she was going, she would dutifully report the child had a dirty diaper that needed to go out and sheets that needed laundered. "Soiled diapers have no place in the home," He had insisted. She would be dismissed. He would go back to sleep.

They, she and her babe, would walk out the front door, open the lid to retrieve the diapers, pop the trunk for some clothing, and step into the waiting van. He would be left abandoned. She would provide her child a life free of worry. She would keep other women from being victimized by a child raised to be a monster if left in His clutches. They, together, would escape.

*** Daily Writing Practice ***


  1. WOW! What a powerful piece. I was totally cheering for her and feeling her pain dealing with a monster of a husband like that. I love this and how you put us in her head, explaining what is about to happen and why it will happen. You are a terrific writer!! You need to submit your writings to magazines, contests, etc.

  2. I hope they make it.
    That being said you can see how well you draw th reader in.