Author: tatty ted PM
When Emilia Jackson's husband is killed, the police are baffled to why someone would kill such a respectable man? Then, the more the police investigate, the more they uncover a series of shocking secrets that may hold the answer to why Peter Jackson was killed. - —OC.Rated: Fiction T - English - Crime - Chapters: 6 - Words: 3,461 - Reviews: 9 - Favs: 1 - Follows: 1 - Updated: 06-20-12 - Published: 06-06-12 - Status: Complete - id: 8190541
|A+ A- Full 3/4 1/2 Expand Tighten|
trial & retribution.
"Please Peter, don't hurt me." She begs. He mimicks her, laughs at her and slaps her across the face. She's used to the beatings now, it's been a year since they married. A year to the day since he began to abuse her.
He was always a jealous man. She'd had to give up her job as a Barmaid because he didn't like the attention she recieved of other men. Apparently, she was flirting with them.
She wasn't but he was paranoid. Always believed she was going to take the children and leave him for someone better.
"Peter—" She stops when a punch to her mouth leaves her tasting blood. He pushes her to the floor and climbs on top of her, his nails digging into her wrists.
She somehow manages to find the strength to fight him. She kicks him in the balls, runs into the kitchen and grabs the nearest thing she can find.
A knife. A long kitchen knife that shines in the light.
And the next time he hurts her, she stabs him. He falls to the floor, clutching his chest and she drops the knife in shock. She can't believe she's done it. She's finally done it.
He takes his last breath and she smiles, satisfied that for once she's free. She cleans up, picks up the knife and puts it in her handbag, wrapped up in a tee-towel.
She leaves home, walks around the block a couple of times before she stands at the front door, keys in hand. She unlocks the front door, pushes the door open and acts completely normal.
"Peter?" She calls, "Peter, are you home?"
She closes the door, wipes her feet on the welcome mat and places the keys on the small table by the door. She takes her shoes off, leaves them neatly by the front door and walks into the kitchen.
There he is. Lying in a pile of his own blood, face down on the floor.
She screams, starts to cry and runs to the phone. She picks up the telephone and punches in 999. Pressing the phone to her ear, she calls the police and tells them her husband is dead.
jottings — a shit prologue. if anyone is reading, please review. lots of love :3