Word of the day:
I woke up in my own bed. It felt great. Like I was back to the old me. I didn't have any haunted dreams of Charlotte or images of her in my mirror, with my morning ritual. Thank goodness.
I was ready to go, heading out to my garage when I remembered that I had to turn off the security system that Mac had been so kind to have installed while we were at the hospital. It was an added feature for the property is what he claimed, but I knew it was because the lunatic was out there, somewhere and if he could break in before, who would say he would not again, especially now that he had a gun.
I was alone. It was calming and yet, very unsettling also. The quiet surrounded me and left me uneasy as I got into bed the night before and caused the TV to be turned on, volume low for the remainder of the nightfall. My car smelled still. It had been sitting for the entire month, in the stag-net garage. Luckily, it fired right up and out of the driveway we headed.
I knew that work needed me. I knew that Mac needed me, but I had a mission to complete. Research always calmed my nerves and these days, it was no different. I had spent a good three hours late last night pulling information from the internet based on ideas and notions that I was collecting. I had kept a little steno book in my purse, at the bottom, since this who things began. I did not want to forget a detail, although details on the body were starting to go, but I knew I could not ask the guys in the Morgue to take pictures of what was left of my sister without sounding like a total wacko. I had documents to back up things I saw and pictures that I had drawn, freehand and not well, with areas of concern. That was all I had.
This was not just a person after all. Not that I think like that on a case. I am not that cold. I take my job seriously because I know that the person who had been the victim lost their life in an inhuman manner and it was my JOB to find out why, who and where. Char just hit a little closer to home because instead of just being a person, it was a person who I literally had grown with. I still tried to put this out of my brain, to push it all aside and focus on finding Danny. I know knew what no one else could possibly.
We had been married young. To young in my own opinion. We had thought that we knew it all, as most young people do. You think that the person you are giving your life to, your soul to will be the one forever. It sounds great, until you want a career. I wanted to do something exciting, something that sang to me. It was not what Danny had in mind. I remember telling him I signed up for Criminal law at our local college. The look on his face should have given me warning. He told me that I was a slut and trying to pick up men. I was appauld by his behavior, his outburst and had no idea what he was talking about. I had just signed up to better myself, not replace him. He had been so upset that he hit me, several times, bruising my ribs, my chest and my legs. I had noticeable bruises all over my body. I remember being crouched in a ball, thinking to myself that this was insane. I cried and thought that I had done something wrong. I reached out to him to ask him what I had done. I was such an idiot. He treated me as if I had done something too. That was the first time he laid his hands on me, the first time that I became an abused spouse.
I had started the courses, even taking him to the community college with me to check it out. It wasn't until he met the girls who were also in Criminal Law, that he eased up on me. I passed four semesters, with straight A's and he had been proud of me, not laying a hand on my in any way, shape or form. I think that this should have been a sign.
To celebrate he took me to France. It was so odd and cold. He really did not look at me once on the trip and once we landed, I was on my own. I was a single tourist in a different country. He stayed behind, in the hotel room or went to some meetings, since it was his work that had paid for our travels. I hardly saw him, day or night. It was then, during this trip that we had gone our separate ways, I had went out to a little cafe around the corner from the hotel. I was getting into my Private Investigator courses and studying in my loneliness. My mind was wondering about , as to what he was doing and why he was not showing me any attention. Home was one thing, but he took me on this trip to a romantic place, I thought we were here to make babies. It was in this thought process that I saw him. His dark hair disheveled on his head. He was with a woman, a tall blonde, a good foot taller than he was, they were getting into a limo. She was carrying roses and he had his hand on her bottom. He held the door open for her to get in, kissing her, deep on the mouth. He even managed to look around to make sure no one saw him. It was this day that my heart shattered. I had already known. Since the day he beat me, I knew it was about him, his fidelity. He was having an affair and he was the only one that was aloud to.
I grabbed my things from the coffee shop and headed back to the room. He had not been there. His clothes were still as they were when I had left that morning. I sat down and made a plan. I was leaving.
He walked back into the room a few hours later. I was watching TV and acted as if nothing was wrong. I acted as if I had not seen a thing. He acted suspicious as hell.
"Where have you been all day?" I asked in a casual tone. "Those meetings are taking away from the romance of this city." I said, as I got up to rub my hands on him.
He just looked at me as he backed up. He had rage in his eyes. I felt his hand before I realized. I was in a ball on the ground, trying to protect myself. That is when I saw it. He reached for something shiny. It was a gun and I was it's target. I had just learned some self defense moves in class and although I was not sure I was prepared to use them, I knew that I was going to.
Somehow I fought him off, before the gun exploded. I got my hands on it and I told him what was going to happen next. He was going to shoot me. He had messed with the wrong bitch, was all I could think.
It was when we returned home that the court filings were proceeded and we were divorced. We parted ways cordially, happily, much to his demise. I had the gun and I was not going to let him forget that I had fought him for it and was prepared to use it if he EVER laid a hand on me again.
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~Kel
