The Reaper

Jane didn’t fear the Reaper – because she was gonna take down the Devil. She was tired of waiting for someone to help her. She’d been waiting for seven years while he beat her blacker than his soul. And when the bruises faded, he’d start again.

She was done. The time had come to end it once and for all…

The gun in her hand felt surprisingly comfortable. Jane didn’t believe in guns. They caused too much destruction. But this one was different. It was her last stand – a fight til death do us part.

It all started innocent enough. He’d come home after a night out with the guys, and  would forget to check if she was in the mood. Then he started accusing her of flirting with his buddies on poker nights. She hated those nights – they always ended in an argument.

She tried wearing jogging pants with old tee-shirts. It didn’t matter. Once John made up his mind, there was no going back.

She’d never forget the first time he hit her – not because it was the worse, but because it was the time he broke her heart. She never let him have it again. It took too long to put back together.

After the beatings started, John discovered that he liked it, and that was that. Eventually he stopped pretending he was sorry – using her as a punching bag whenever he needed to unwind.

And no one cared enough to help. The few she told, told her to simply move out. They didn’t know John very well. He wouldn’t stand for her leaving – she was his. And he’d be damned before he’d let her go. His friends and family would never believe her, so she didn’t try telling them.

They believed she was just accident prone, and needed to be more careful. They couldn’t see the monster hiding in plain sight. Jane didn’t blame them, however. How could she? She hadn’t seen the monster herself until it was too late. The ring was already on her finger when she saw him for the first time.

When they were dating, she only saw the prince who treated her like his future queen. So when John asked her to marry him, she didn’t hesitate. And wishing she hadn’t been so blind, didn’t stop his fists.

When he broke her jaw, she knew it was time to save herself – before he broke her for good. She was too young to die.

That was three years ago. She wasn’t going to make the same mistake twice. Rushing in the first time, Jane knew she had to be patient.

Now the night had finally come, and his shift would be over soon. She hoped he wouldn’t go out for drinks with the guys at his precinct. Tonight was going to be special – she would finally be free. She couldn’t remember how it felt, but she wanted to find out…

Jane heard the door open – no drinks tonight. Thank God! She couldn’t wait to get the whole thing over with. What would it feel like to pull the trigger? She’d find that out too.

“Jane? Where are you?!” He’d gotten so use to her waiting in the kitchen with supper ready – in case he was hungry.

Though he was hungry for more than supper right now. It had been a long day ending in a ton of paperwork. But Jane always helped him forget the atrocities he saw on the job.

He was a lucky man, as the guys were quick to point out. Jane was a beautiful woman – despite those wretched jogging pants she insisted were more comfortable.

She didn’t wear those when they met – a good thing too. He was more of a skirt man. And man, did she have the legs! Too bad she insisted on covering them up now. He missed seeing them.  Except when he managed to get the clothes off her…

“Jane?!” Where was she? It wasn’t like her not to answer. Her car was parked as usual, so she had to be home. He started to worry. He couldn’t imagine life without her. She was his rock. He counted on her to make sense of a senseless world.

His supper wasn’t even started. Something was wrong. She never missed a night – always waiting with a smile to greet him. He was a lucky man…

“There you are!” Then John noticed the gun in her hand. She hated his guns. She always talked about how much they scared her – too destructive. She’d never held one before. It looked kinda sexy. Man was he hungry.

“What’s ya doing with my gun?”

Jane was done talking after seven years of being beaten senseless.

“What the hell!” He would’ve asked about the tarp, but he never got the chance.

She aimed for the head – no point in aiming for the heart. He didn’t have one. And she didn’t want to take any chances. This was a one shot deal. She aimed to make it count….

They never found the body first, or last. You see, Jane knew to hide it in plain sight. No one ever looks there. She’d learned that first hand.

Even his cop buddies were baffled. How does a man a vanish without a trace? They eventually stopped asking, after offering their sympathies.

The neighbors never thought to question the bags of scrap. They’d grown quite use to her feeding the fish over the past three years. ‘Crazy Jane’ they liked to call  her – always tripping over her own feet.



©Brenda Baker ~ Caffeinated Ramblings 2017


Since I started writing, I’ve written a number of poems about domestic abuse. A couple of which will be included in my poetry book. So I wanted to tackle the subject by writing a flash fiction story this time.


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