From Bruised to Ruthless, A Wife’s Revenge Guide - Chapter 3: Chapter 3
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The clock struck noon when my husband barged through the front door. My body instinctively tensed as he approached, my hands trembling uncontrollably when he lifted his arm.
A cruel chuckle escaped his lips. Swallowing my fear, I dared to meet his gaze.
His face twisted into that familiar smug grin - the one he always wore when watching me cower before him.
"Heh, relax. I'm not gonna hit you... today," he drawled, patting my head like I was some stray mutt he'd taken in.
In his eyes, that's exactly what I was - just another pet he could kick around whenever the mood struck.
What did my bruises matter? There were never any consequences for him.
After his second beating, I'd called the cops. That was when he'd first kicked me in the gut. The officers came, took one look at my "minor" injuries, gave him a slap on the wrist, and left.
That's when he realized - he could do whatever he wanted to me.
He became obsessed with researching domestic violence online, scouring forums for stories about abusive husbands. When he discovered that short of killing or permanently maiming me, the law would treat this as "family business," he started pushing boundaries.
First it was random slaps whenever he had a bad day or I wasn't paying enough attention.
Unless you've been hit by a grown man, you can't imagine how much those hands weigh. One strike leaves your ears ringing, your face burning numb before the swelling starts. Then came the choking, the stomach kicks, the arm-twisting that left purple fingerprints for weeks.
I fought back once. Our daughter tried to shield me during one beating, and when his boot connected with her small body, something in me snapped. I went feral - scratching, biting, screaming.
He knocked me out cold with one punch to the temple. After that, he treated me like garbage - because that's what I was to him.
The physical disparity between us meant I couldn't even fight off one of his hands.
"What's that look for? Thinking about running to the cops again?"
He yanked my hair hard enough to bring tears to my eyes, his mocking smirk inches from my face.
"I'm sorry, darling," I forced a smile, my scalp screaming. "Don't be angry. I made your favorite pork rib soup."
With a dismissive grunt, he ordered me to serve it.
At dinner, I piled the meatiest ribs on his plate and served my mother-in-law first: "Here you go, Mom."
Then I gave our daughter a nearly bare bone. Her eyes welled up but she stayed silent. My own bowl held nothing but broth and wilted greens.
My mother-in-law nodded approvingly - finally her disobedient daughter-in-law knew her place. My husband seemed surprised but pleased as he dug in like some feudal lord while I stood by, playing the dutiful servant.
That night when he climbed on top of me, I wrapped my arms around his neck without hesitation.
"Your mother says we should try for a son soon..."
His wandering hands found the spot where he'd broken my ribs last month and pressed down hard.
"Ah!"
My pained gasp only made him laugh harder as he enjoyed my suffering.
"Too much for you to carry?" he sneered.
A cruel chuckle escaped his lips. Swallowing my fear, I dared to meet his gaze.
His face twisted into that familiar smug grin - the one he always wore when watching me cower before him.
"Heh, relax. I'm not gonna hit you... today," he drawled, patting my head like I was some stray mutt he'd taken in.
In his eyes, that's exactly what I was - just another pet he could kick around whenever the mood struck.
What did my bruises matter? There were never any consequences for him.
After his second beating, I'd called the cops. That was when he'd first kicked me in the gut. The officers came, took one look at my "minor" injuries, gave him a slap on the wrist, and left.
That's when he realized - he could do whatever he wanted to me.
He became obsessed with researching domestic violence online, scouring forums for stories about abusive husbands. When he discovered that short of killing or permanently maiming me, the law would treat this as "family business," he started pushing boundaries.
First it was random slaps whenever he had a bad day or I wasn't paying enough attention.
Unless you've been hit by a grown man, you can't imagine how much those hands weigh. One strike leaves your ears ringing, your face burning numb before the swelling starts. Then came the choking, the stomach kicks, the arm-twisting that left purple fingerprints for weeks.
I fought back once. Our daughter tried to shield me during one beating, and when his boot connected with her small body, something in me snapped. I went feral - scratching, biting, screaming.
He knocked me out cold with one punch to the temple. After that, he treated me like garbage - because that's what I was to him.
The physical disparity between us meant I couldn't even fight off one of his hands.
"What's that look for? Thinking about running to the cops again?"
He yanked my hair hard enough to bring tears to my eyes, his mocking smirk inches from my face.
"I'm sorry, darling," I forced a smile, my scalp screaming. "Don't be angry. I made your favorite pork rib soup."
With a dismissive grunt, he ordered me to serve it.
At dinner, I piled the meatiest ribs on his plate and served my mother-in-law first: "Here you go, Mom."
Then I gave our daughter a nearly bare bone. Her eyes welled up but she stayed silent. My own bowl held nothing but broth and wilted greens.
My mother-in-law nodded approvingly - finally her disobedient daughter-in-law knew her place. My husband seemed surprised but pleased as he dug in like some feudal lord while I stood by, playing the dutiful servant.
That night when he climbed on top of me, I wrapped my arms around his neck without hesitation.
"Your mother says we should try for a son soon..."
His wandering hands found the spot where he'd broken my ribs last month and pressed down hard.
"Ah!"
My pained gasp only made him laugh harder as he enjoyed my suffering.
"Too much for you to carry?" he sneered.
End of From Bruised to Ruthless, A Wife’s Revenge Guide Chapter 3. Continue reading Chapter 4 or return to From Bruised to Ruthless, A Wife’s Revenge Guide book page.