*8 years later*
He was sitting there, just eating his breakfast and reading his newspaper. I was too scared to go into the dining room, fear of disturbing his peace that he would beat me to pieces...but I had to. I had to grab his empty plate and empty it..
"Good morning honey.." I said with a shaky voice.
"Good morning my love" He smiles, "did you sleep well?"
"I did..and you?"
I grabbed his empty plate and he grabs my wrist...
"What do you think you're fucking doing?" He said with his teeth clenched together..
I don't get it, he is just so bipolar...
"I need to wash the dishes handsome.." I say nervously..
"Do you think I am done with that?" He stands up, pushing his chair back and gripping my hair in his fist.
"It looks empty to me..." I look down biting my lip and quiver when his hand meets my face, hard.
"I'm not fucking done you slut! You ask if you can take my plate. you don't just go and grab! What if I just went and picked up that knife and stabbed your pretty little throat open." He grabs the knife any way and holds it to my neck..
"Please don't. I love you." I reach for the knife..but it just pushes harder on my neck..
"You don't love me! You never have, you only married me because of your father." He pushes it closer to my neck..
"But I do love you, please, just give me the knife and I'll wait until you're finished."
He nods and hands it over...I quickly take the knife and jab him in the side and he falls to the ground and i run to the bedroom and lock it...
What did I just do...I hope I didn't kill him, I was just trying to protect me self..
I go back to the kitchen 10 mins later and he is still unconscious...I take the bag of clothes I have, run out the door as fast as I can without a glance towards him, without a trace...