Tears of a Cowgirl: Running from the devil

Katie stood with her face pressed against the pane of glass while listening to Eddie play with his big red truck. The sun was setting, and she knew Chris would soon be home from work. He would carry a scowl across his face, while his breath would stink, of whisky. He would be angry over one thing or another. 

Dinner was in the oven, and the table was set in the hope of appeasing the beast as he entered his man cave. This used to be home, but that was when they were in love. Now she was his bitch who waited on his every move. Life before all of this was enjoyable, but if she had only known the outcome, she would have walked away. Although she would never trade her son for anything. Eddie was her pride and joy; now, all she had to do was save him from this hellhole.

Katie stood over the table, serving dinner as Chris bolted through the door. His face carried a stern expression covering what used to be a smile, and instead of flowers, he held a box of beer beneath his arm. Trying to hide what she felt, she smiled and asked about his day. He glared at her as if she had asked for a million dollars and popped open a beer, "What's for dinner? He said in a gruff voice while pulling out his chair. She watched as he examined the table and the dinner she provided, "I made your favourite. She said as she smiled at him.

Katie finished serving Eddie, then moved on to fill Chris's plate. There were days when she wouldn't get to eat because he needed more. He would sit, filling his face and leave nothing for her. She didn't dare to say anything for each time he would beat her black and blue, and since she never left the house, no one ever knew or cared to ask. Now she was smart and would eat as she cooked. He didn't seem to bother Eddie much; perhaps it was because he was a boy and his heir.

It had been a little over a year since this began. It has been that long since Katie spoke to her best friend Charlie, who was in a panic right about now. Just before it all happened, Chris bought a house, and before she could contact anyone, he cut the cord so she couldn't call for help. Now Katherine wandered through this large house with a monitor on her ankle, with no idea how to remove it. Many days she sat picking at it, and at the end of the day, it remained locked. It was a heavy plastic that snapped into place; there was no keyhole and no obvious way to take it off. Something somewhere controlled it, and chances were, it was on Chris's phone.

She thought about leaving daily, but doing it without a plan wasn't wise.