The Battered Husband Syndrome In The Liberty MovementSubmitted by Molusk on Sat, 02/23/2013 - 22:59
(vol. iii in a spontaneously collaborative series)
The night was cold and wet.
Nearly 10 years had elapsed since she had left him and taken everything.
She no longer had a name to him. When she was mentioned at all it was the bitch or that bitch.
After decades of devotion, fidelity and hard work, she left him. Not on amicable terms, not with a mutual sense of respect, but in a sudden act of betrayal and an emotional about face, he was pushed out of the life he had built and treated as a stranger or wretch who she had never known.
The divorce was brutal, long and painful.
Nor was it a split on equal terms, a parting of company with a fair division of possessions and a mutual bond of respect. Even the beloved fruits of the former bond, now denied by the one, were selfishly snatched away completely from the spurned one.
Left alone, miserable, a pervasive sense of hopelessness, he sat in quiet, sipped his drink, and contemplated the sweet solace of a revenge played out again and again in his mind, alive as life, but not life.
That spouse which he loved, that movement that was his child, the happy auspices of the gay wedding day, the high hopes for the future, he now whimsically remembered while drowning his sorrow in the last few swigs of the bottle. He drank back his gall.
There was a .22 on the table. A few shells rolled and now rested in place.
He woke up the next day. The hangovers no longer bothered him at this point, if they came at all. It wasn't long after the last sip of his breakfast that the knock at the door came.
There she was, in his doorway, tears in her eyes. Fake or real, he did not know. In her arm was a suitcase of her things. She was broken, harried, no where left to go, but she spoke too smoothly. That glibness and persistence of one in need and hard on the heels of an all too specific goal.
Back again, when there was no where else to go, back again, when in need. Back again to drain that last drop of blood, love and money still limping along in him, which alone kept him from collapsing and waking no more. Here was the bitch, back to claim that last drop.
The conclusion of this little episode is too gruesome to narrate in words.
Suffice it to say, no doors will remain long opened to traitorous whores.
previous installment: http://www.dailypaul.com/275773/the-battered-wife-syndrome-s... by Smudge Pot