Late, again. Why can't I ever be on time? she thought. She rifled through her top drawer, looking for a white T-shirt she could wear to the conference. She lifted up a few of her shirts. She pushed aside her 9mm Glock. “No one would ever consider looking for you here.” She barely whispered to the gun. She found a shirt, threw it on, and rushed out the front door.




She walked in from the chilling wind, only to find that the Kitchen light had been left on. Once she locked the door, she started walking towards the kitchen, getting ready to put the newly bought bags of food in their rightful places. A shadow fell across the kitchen floor. He's here. She could smell the whiskey in the air. She dropped the bags and ran up the stairs to her top drawer of her dresser. She scrambled, riffling through her clothes, trying to find her 9mm Glock. Her head pounded with every beat of her heart. Its gone?? who could have found it?? She turned around looking at the man who had been in her kitchen, holding a gun, pointing it at her. She recognized it. Thats my gun! How could he have found it?? I never told him where it was. Or that I even had bought one! The man holding the gun was her husband. He was drunk, as usual. She slowly sank to the hard bedroom floor. Hot wet tears streaming down her face. She knew what was coming, she just prayed to God that she would survive this one last beating.