A trickle of blood began running down from the fresh split that now glistened upon her lower lip. She watched him with wild eyes, her body a crumpled heap upon the carpeted floor.
“I'm tired of bein' late to work 'cause of yer slow cookin'!” the large man roared, “You don' appreciate a damn thing I do for ya!”
He brought his hand back and slapped it across her face a second time.
“I-I'm sorry,” came her faint reply, “I can remake them-”
“Aint make no damn bit o' difference now, do it?” he replied in a harsh snap, “Time ain't gonna wait. Guess I'm going to work hungry. Again.”
He swung his booted foot into the woman's stomach. She recoiled with a grunt while lying ever flatter upon the floor.
“This house better be spic n' span when I get home,” he said to her while turning to the door, “The least your worthless ass could do is-”
Something struck his shoulder. The blow was incredibly hard, and caused him to fall forward a bit. Once he caught his footing, he wheeled around to face her.
“What the hell do you think yer doin'?” he shouted while taking a step toward the now cowering woman.
“I d-didn't do anything,” she stammered out weakly while bringing her hands out in front of her.
He grabbed her shirt collar and lifted her from the ground.
“Yer in fer a worl' of hurt, you ungrateful-”
It felt as though a frying pan was driven into the side of the man's cheek. He lost his footing, instantly releasing the woman and stumbling to catch himself on a nearby couch. Another hit came to his left arm, then his chest.
“What the hell's goin' on?”
He barely managed to get the words out as blow after merciless blow slammed into his body. He struggled to his feet, only to be splayed back upon the carpet. He looked all about the room, settling upon the woman. His eyes went wide at what he saw; massive cuts and gashes lined her body like grotesque medals. Her face was a myriad of bruises, swelling and redness. Blood freely dripped from her body, staining her clothing with red streaks.
“I'm not doing anything, I swear!”
He watched as she spoke, blood poured from her mouth. Despite the horrid appearance of her face, her eyes appeared to be completely intact. She was watching him with a wide, fear-struck gaze.
He felt his body spasm as the millionth hit rammed into him. He lied back, strength becoming unattainable. A deafening crack resonated within the room as he felt an impossibly large force collide with his left arm, severing the bone and pulping the flesh.
“H-help me,” he managed to say while looking to her, “Please.”
She only watched. She watched as he cried out once more as the same crunch came, now from one of his legs. She watched as he made a move to stand, but was forced back as if a bowling ball had been tossed into his gut. She watched deep, bleeding cuts began to slice up and down his body; mixing with the fresh purples and reds of his damaged skin.
She was smiling. The force at work was alien and unknown to her, and she knew that at any moment it could turn upon her. She knew that her husband was dying, being beat to death right before her eyes. The smile never faded from her lips.
“Y-you are a h-horrib-”
With one, final snap from somewhere within his chest, the man was silenced. He stared at her with a look of pure surprise, then fell limp, his gaze averting from her's forever. Silence filled the small room, her husbands body beginning to pool blood beneath him. She shakily got to her feet while lapping at the cut upon her lip. Then, the utter silence was shattered. She stood before the dead body of the man she once loved, and was laughing.
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