"I think you feel the way I feel, but if you loved me, you would show me."
I thought to myself, how many more ways can I show my love? This is what I thought, but what I said was," Whatever you want honey, name it." I reached for my wallet.
She said, “Put that thing away. This is not about money. If you loved me,” she said again, handing me a steak knife, “you would sacrifice something.”
I don’t know what I was thinking when I saw the knife. Here I’d been married to this woman for ten long years. I thought nothing she could say to me could surprise me. Out of the blue,” Look at your little finger. What is it good for?”
I had no idea how to answer that. Better for me if she’d asked for some spending money. THAT I could handle. “Deidre,” I said. “I do not get your meaning.”
“Sure you do,” was her reply. “That little finger is not even on the hand you write with. Not serving any purpose at all. I’d think you’d hardly miss it.” She was staring at it now, almost hungrily. This scenario repeated itself throughout the rest of the night. She repeated again and again the words: “Love by Sacrifice” , her voice a hoarse whisper.
“I love you, woman,” I said for the hundredth time or so it seemed.
“Well you know what to do then.”
2
When I came to, I heard an indescribable scream coming from somewhere close to me. It took about a minute before I realized it was coming from my own mouth.
I looked at my hand which was wrapped in a big bandage where blood had soaked through and through and dried. I thought, “Sweet Jesus, when did this happen?” I was sweating by then and trembling. More from fear than anger though. This crazy would kill me before it was over - that much I knew.
I needed to get outa’ there and fast. But then I heard her coming up the steps. Calling out to me she said, “Did you sleep okay honey? Boy did you snore last night!”
She came into the room dressed in my favorite blue satin nightgown carrying a tray loaded down with pancakes and sausage. Was this woman crazy? How did she expect me to eat? I just wanted outa’ here.
“You can keep the house, the car, anything, everything. I’m leaving,” I said.
“Oh, I don’t think so. You have got to eat something, dear. I made your favorite big old breakfast.”
I told her I didn’t want her breakfast. For all I knew it was full of poison. Then I went to get up but couldn’t quite catch my balance. I was too weak to make it to my feet. How much blood had I lost?
3
Groggy. Cloudy. Dizzy. Determined. All of this was me. The room was dimly illuminated by a small lamp on the dresser. I didn’t know where she was. I just knew I had to get up before I had to make any more “sacrifices.”
I was so weak, in so much pain. And the pain seemed to be coming from every part of my body - I mean every part of my body ached. How would I get outa’ here? No matter, I thought, I am gonna’ get on my feet and walk – no run outa’ here.
But getting on my feet was mere wishful thinking since I could see the left one sticking out of the small trashcan across the room. The other was sitting on my chest-toes pointing to my face.
I don't know how this horror began or what triggered it. What I do know is how it will end.
I hope it's soon.
###
Story by Pamela Tyree Griffin
Photograph by Juliet James
