“Make me a sandwich, bitch.”
This is not intended to be sexist or stereotypical, but rather statistical: a woman spends nearly four years of their life in the kitchen. And thirty percent of these women are captivated in a loveless romance of horror…they are abused with their sexual fantasies being unsatisfied by beatings resulting in black eyes and bloody noses.
“Where’s my goddamned sandwich?”
And there are a large percentage of these women who still feel that there is love within every clenched fist that unleashes a force of physical contact…these women feel that they deserve it and that they are fortunate to have a commitment with an abusive bastard.
“I said I wanted cheese!” and he slapped her with the back of his hand. Her senses of vision and hearing were momentarily converted into blurs and ringing as her cheekbone simultaneously screamed in pain with a stinging glow of red.
In this particular situation, Courtney had been married to Steven Woods for less than a year. She had been badly and repeatedly bruised and beaten…the sex wasn’t even worth it. Her self-esteem had been dangerously venturing into the suicidal regions of escape…
The kitchen had an expansive selection of knives that she could slit her wrist with…and there were multiple jugs and bottles of toxic and poisonous chemicals of which she could willingly ingest…
She procrastinated the addition of cheese to her husband’s sandwich. Courtney rested her palms upon the brim of the sink and emitted a sorrowful stare down the drain.
Courtney removed her wedding ring and examined her regretful symbol of commitment…ten karats of gold and one carat of diamond with a price tag of nearly two thousand dollars.
A two thousand dollar ring…and Courtney deliberately dropped it down the drain. She watched it submerge itself with her depression as it vanished into the darkness of the plumbing.
“Steve, honey…” but he ignored her.
“Steven! I dropped my wedding ring,” and an immediate act of acknowledgement was presented as Steven’s head turned to display a hateful glare directed at his wife.
“I dropped it down the drain.”
Steven approached Courtney—he would surely beat her. He would hit her and slap her and pull her hair and—
But first, he would retrieve his ring…two thousand dollars, literally down the drain. And so he delayed Courtney’s beating, sparing her with just a vengeful glare (which was still threatening), and then extended his hand into the drain.
Steven was immediately acquainted by the cold mush of disgusting waste that was left to rot within the digestive track of the sink. He reluctantly scavenged deeper and deeper into the compost until his fingers finally met the diamond of the—
And then Courtney turned on the garbage disposal.
Due to the darkness of the drain, Steven had never seen the garbage disposal. In the past, he had used it…he had heard it…and now…now he felt it.
Steven felt the immediate awakening of the blades as they forced themselves to perform their cycle through his fingers…through his flesh and through his bones and the blood began to spray from the drain and up his arm. He attempted to pull his hand out, but the blade had twisted and intertwined his fingers within the drain and interlocked themselves between the jointed bones.
It was only seconds until the blades stopped spinning, but the garbage disposal remained on. The blades were jammed…jammed with a bloody, mangled hand. Steven’s fingers had all been disjointed and jutted themselves in their opposing directions with an absence of skin as the broken and twisted bones were entirely exposed.
It was only seconds…but it felt like a fucking hour of absolute excruciation. The pain was not unleashed until the blades had stopped and settled into Steven’s grotesquely altered palm and fingers…the pain was as if the sink had been clogged with magma of which had consumed his wandering hand.
Steven attempted to free his hand…he pulled his arm until his shoulder was threatening a dislocation, but the garbage disposal had clamped its teeth upon his flesh with too much force. Steven jerked and twisted his arm with his screams only seizing as he gasped for an occasional cold, short breath.
The blood had stopped spraying upon his arm as it dripped into the sink and splattered itself upon the kitchen walls with every movement that Steven would make as he sought freedom. And every stream that would flow within the grooves of the tiled walls consisted of droplets of blood that had been drained from his pale face.
In correspondence to his colorless facial features of painful horror, his other arm was extending in an attempt to reach the switch…the same switch that had sent the kitchen sink into a violent and ravenous appetite. Steven’s arm was just as pale as his face, a shocking contrast when compared to the bloody limb that was still clenched within the garbage disposal.
Steven had strained his free arm to its limit with his index finger just an inch shy of reaching the switch. And so he made one final, strenuous pull…a pull so intense that his wrist and shoulder had each abandoned their sockets…but the switch was contacted and immediately halted the force of the garbage disposal.
And as the garbage disposal was unwillingly thrust into neutral, the vicious bite of the blades had released their grip and spat Steven’s hand from the drain. His arm recoiled from the sink with blood splattering itself upon his body in addition to the rest of the goddamned kitchen.
Steven staggered from the sink and examined his mutated hand in disgust…there was so much blood and loose, hanging flesh that he could not even tell if all of his fingers were there…his hand had been converted into bloody entanglements of broken bones that were being held by the shredded flesh of which was dangling from his palm.
“You fucking b—” and before the insult was completed, Courtney had stuck a kitchen knife into his shoulder. It was lodged into Steven’s shoulder blade and became wedged deep into his joint as his wife firmly held the handle.
Steven now had both of his shoulders dislocated, and both of his arms were dripping with red, thick blood. His hand was obliterated and his fury was a raging inferno, clearly represented within the piercing pupils of his eyes…he stared at his wife, and Courtney’s face was only inches away with an absence of fear and a surplus of vengeance.
And as the moment of Steven’s ultimate shoulder pain continued its torment, he had foraged enough anger to scream at his wife and complete his previous insult: “You fucking bitch!”
And then Courtney removed the knife; it was difficult considering the edges of the blade were deeply implanted into her husband’s bones, but the knife had still been vanquished from his body and blood was spat from the wound.
Steven was powerless and defenseless even with the relinquishment of the knife and Courtney took the opportunity to stab him again—this time in his back. Her arm angled itself around his waist and the blade of the knife managed to impale his lower back…right between the plates of his spinal cord.
And suddenly, Steven felt nothing. There was no more pain, but it was not satisfying…it was even more painful, not being able to feel and not being able to move. The knife had shattered the vertebrae of his spine and the nerves were severed with an ironically painless result of seizing nerve impulses.
Steven spat a mouthful of blood into Courtney’s face, and then his body became entirely limp as he collapsed. The knife was removed and he lied sprawled upon the kitchen floor…the tiles had been white and ceramic, but they were now coated with Steven’s flowing blood as it pooled around his body and repelled across the floor.
Courtney stood over her helpless husband—his screams had been demoted to agonized moaning but his fury was still being emitted through his piercing eyes. She then knelt down and mounted his body, seating herself upon his pelvis with her legs resting at his sides.
And for a brief moment, Steven’s mind flashbacked to having sex with Courtney. The floor was a bed and the kitchen was a bedroom, and as she mounted him he had inserted his—
And then the moment had passed once Courtney raised the knife over her head…the imaginary bedroom disintegrated into reality of which was a bloody kitchen and Steven had been the destination of the elevated blade.
Stab. Stab. Stab…again and again, and Courtney could feel the obscurities within Steven’s chest as the blade collided with his bones and organs. There was an occasional crack that was heard when a rib would be snapped by the force of the knife, and there was always a squish as each stab released a gushing engorgement of blood.
Steven’s torso was left bloodied and mutilated with exposed innards and entrails resembling the horrific effects of grief and torment and revenge as his blood had coated the entire floor of the kitchen. The body just lied there, severely bleeding, but Courtney was still not satisfied.
Courtney knelt down to level herself with the cabinet underneath the sink—she stabilized herself by holding onto the stainless steel sink…the metal was always cold, but the blood upon her hands had given her sense of touch the feeling of wet and hellish warmth.
And within the cabinet, Courtney retrieved a supply of bleach and ammonia. The one-gallon jugs were uncapped and presented a fierce odor of poison that was ruminating from the plastic concealment of which was accompanied by an intimidating number of warnings and precautions.
Courtney stood over Steven’s body with the chemicals—one jug in each hand—and then she simply tilted the containers towards each other and allowed the corrosive substances to spill onto the severe wounds of her husband…the colorless liquid of the bleach had united with the green, almost glowing liquid of the ammonia and created a single stream of reacting chemicals that were being directly spilled onto Steven.
If you mix bleach and ammonia, a chemical reaction of extreme vulgarity occurs…the flowing solution steamed and bubbled as it fell onto Steven’s body and the toxins were being inhaled by Courtney—her lungs felt as if they had been filled with isopropyl alcohol.
But between Courtney’s coughs in an attempt to dispose of the fatal inhalant, there was laughter…Courtney continued to empty the bleach and ammonia onto her husband as she emitted a demonic and maniacal laughter of satisfaction.
Steven was dead after the third stab of the knife—it descended into his flesh between his ribs and directly into his heart, but Courtney continued to mutilate his cadaver…the cheese grater shredded every inch of his chest and the hand mixer beat every organ in his body until Steven’s torso was a single solution of what could be a flowing ocean of hell.
Courtney had finally left the corpse and staggered to the kitchen sink. The chemicals in her body had been tormenting and unforgiving, and she vomited. But maybe it wasn’t the chemicals…maybe it was her reaction to seeing what was left of her husband’s body…its torso had been altered with enough demented modifications that the limbs were practically dismembered.
Courtney stared down the drain…and then she reached her hand into the drain as her fingers sank into the vomit and blood…
…and she retrieved her wedding ring. The gold had been bent and was converted into a golden ball of scrap, but the diamond was still glistening with perfection.
Courtney admired the single carat of diamond, realizing that it was the only good thing that had come of her marriage…realizing that her husband was dead and was never coming back…realizing that she was now happy.