the beginning Who: Res When: Late morning, Flashback - July of 2005 Where: Her room, Detroit, Michigan nsfw
Before going to see Ronnie, Res opened the safe and armed herself. Ronnie wouldn't be alone, and neither would she, but she had no idea if Ronnie was going to try something stupid or not. So, the guns were coming out of retirement.
Concealing the weapon with her clothing, she couldn't help but think about the first time she'd picked up a gun with the intent to use it - really use it.
She couldn't sleep. Her back was covered in bruises and aching, and no matter how hard she tried she had been unable to find a comfortable position. She'd quietly slipped out of bed and out of the room, and into the bathroom. She looked in the medicine cabinet for the bottle of Tylenol, and found it to be empty. She stared at it for a moment before letting out a defeated sigh and dropping it into the trash bin. She sat on the edge of the tub and let her head rest against the cool tile. Eventually, he'll kill me.
Disturbingly enough, this thought usually brought her some level of comfort. He may kill her, but at least if he did, it would be over. She wouldn't have to deal with it all anymore. Someday he would finally kill her, and that would be that.
Then a thought hit her with such disturbing clarity it seemed to make everything go dead quiet, as if a blackout had hit the entire city. He might not. He might not. What if you're still living this life in ten years? Or twenty?</b>
Jaw hanging slightly open, Res stared off at nothing looking as if she had just been slapped for the first time in her life.
What if he doesn't kill you? What if you have to live to old age with this? What if he gets you pregnant someday? What if it all just keeps going? What if you never get out?
The idea was horrible, and enough to make her feel sick. That could not happen. She couldn't still be here in five years, let alone ten. She couldn't go on like this. Not for another five years. Not for another five minutes.
Suddenly her heart was racing. She was sweating and terrified, suddenly suffocating on her own thoughts. Asphyxiated on reality. Shaking, she fell off the rim of the tub and onto the floor, and she pulled her knees to her chest as she waited for the panic attack to leave her. It didn't.
I can't do anything. I can't. I've tried. I've left before. He'll just drag me back here. He'll torture me. He'll make me suffer for ever trying to disobey him. I can't run, I can't hide. There's nothing I can do!
Not a second later Res realized there was something she could do. Again, her own thoughts horrified her - enough to stop the shaking panic. She grabbed on to the sink and pulled herself up off of the floor, and quietly walked back into the bedroom. She sat at the foot of the bed and watched Vic sleep. His eyes were moving behind closed lids. He was dreaming. Occasionally he would mutter something softly to himself. In time, he smiled in his sleep.
Res felt something inside her then, when he smiled, but it was not sentiment or affection. There was a fire inside, of anger and hate, that had been left to smolder for ages. His smile sent a gust of wind through her, fanning the flames and spreading the embers out through every part of her. Her fists clenched in her lap, until her nails bit through the skin of her palms.
I can't do this anymore. It has to end. Now. As soon as she thought it, felt it, an incredible sense of calm fell over her, and a massive weight was lifted from her shoulders. She felt like she was breathing for the first time. Born again.
For the first act of her new life, she stood up and looked around the room. She could have left the room and got a weapon, but that seemed too far. Would take too long. This couldn't go on for the amount of time it would take to walk twenty feet. It had to end now, now, or she really would suffocate. She went to the closet and got a baseball bat, and calmly walked back to the side of the bed.
There was no moment of hesitation or doubt. She gripped the bat in both hands and swung down as hard as she could, the first blow hitting him in the side of the head. There wasn't really any forethought involved. She didn't consider if this would knock him out and if she'd simply beat his head in to a bloody pulp. She lived only in each moment as they passed. So when he reacted defensively, so did she. He shouted and tried to roll away, and Res swung again.
"RES! WHAT THE FUCK!"
She didn't reply, but hauled off and swung again. This time he reached up and grabbed the bat, and tried to pull it away from her. He was stronger than her, and she knew it, so she just let him have it. She yanked a lamp off of the bedside table and slammed it against his head. He shoved the bat hard into her stomach, knocking her back, and all the breath out of her lungs. But she didn't have time to think about the pain. He was advancing on her. She knew if he got her he'd make her sorry. She scrambled for the door.
He lunged after her, grabbing her by the hair and yanking her head back. Res shouted in alarm, fingers digging for purchase along the walls. He shoved her forward, roughly, sending her slamming into the closed bathroom door. Things went fuzzy for a moment, but she kept trying to move. When she lost her balance and fell to the floor, Vic leaned over to grab her leg. As he used it to pull her in, she used her other leg to kick him in the face. He didn't see it coming. She'd never fought back much before. It was enough to make him release her, and when he did, Res got up and took off running. Into the living room, to the coffee table, the drawer... the gun.
Behind her, Vic laughed. "What are you going to do with that?"
Res jumped and turned around, aiming for him with both hands. She had not lost any of her determination. "I'm going to kill you."
Vic leaned in the archway, looking amused. His anger had faded, it seemed, but she knew better. She knew this routine well. "Why would you wanna do that?"
Fucker. Res grit her teeth, jaw set angrily. He had to ask? "It all has to stop!" she shouted at him. "The beatings... the... abuse</s>!" She struggled with that word, knowing it was so much more than that. "I'm done! It's all over!"
Vic rolled his eyes. "You're not going to shoot me, Res." In that next instant, she pulled the trigger. He could not tell her what to do one more time. She couldn't obey him one more time. He jolted and clutched his chest, and blood pooled and dripped down between his fingers. He looked down at his wound, and then up at Res, wobbling slightly. He looked surprised. Like he couldn't actually believe she had done it. She couldn't even take him looking at her, so she shot him again. That time he went down.
Res stayed where she was, legs firmly planted, for a few minutes. She was waiting for... anything. A twitch. In time the adrenaline wore off and she started to feel her own pain. She wobbled slightly herself, dropped the gun, and headed for the phone. Her hands started to shake as she dialed.
"911, what is your emergency?"
Res leaned against the wall, her back to his body, as she hugged herself and closed her eyes. "I just shot my boyfriend." she said, softly. "I think he's-"
There was a loud pop, and suddenly it hurt to breathe. She never shouted or called out, just dropped the phone and fell to her knees. She looked up in dumb shock, and stared stupidly at a smear of blood on the wall where she had been leaning. Another shot, pain shooting through her back and side. The last thought she had before losing consciousness was rather sarcastic, as she scolded herself.
Stupid bitch. What's the first thing you learn from horror movies? Never assume the bastard is dead. Aw, fuck.