Til Death Do Us Part.

Five years ago I married happily, but technically I’m divorced, if you count death as his agreement to sign the papers.
He was a mistake. In the beginning he had charm, looks, and motivation. But it all disappeared too soon, and he was nothing less than a monster.
Year one of marriage, I had my first baby. Conception didn’t take long, not with his constant and forceful desire every night. I would say no, but he would still answer for me.
Year two, another child. I really didn’t want to sleep with him, but how’s a woman supposed to fight back with her limbs tied up?
Year three, one more child. I walked in thinking he was changing their diapers, but he had other thoughts in mind.
Year four, I told him I was leaving him and instead of sexual contact, he decided physical. I lost, every single time. I’m glad my babies were too young to know what was happening before their eyes.
Year five, I pulled the trigger at breakfast. Face down at the table, I finished his cereal for him. I’m sure he was thanking me in Hell.

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