Brandi
This story is written in 3rd Person. The first two chapter titles are the names of the two main characters...
Brandi stared into the ripples of her infinity pool. She gently kicked her feet in the water, disturbing her melancholy reflection on the surface. She hated what she saw, a scared and weak little girl, despite the fact she was nearly approaching 40.
Brandi loved her pool. It was the only thing that gave her solace these days. The love and affection she desperately sought were found at the bottom of Big Blue. Her pool was her escape, and no one could hurt her there. Her husband’s screams of degradation towards her were muffled, barely audible as she propelled herself across the pool like a mermaid. He couldn’t touch her there, and if she had gills and a flipper, she’d never come up for air again.
She’d float on top of the surface of Big Blue like a lily pad, soaking up the sunrays. She’d giggle to herself at the irony that she could put her faith and trust in water to always uplift her. But the simple fact was, more than likely, she’d die by the hands of her husband than drowning in the pool. Maybe that was how he’d finally put her out of her misery? She could see him grabbing her by the back of her head and dunking her head under water.
After a solid minute, she’d accept her fate once she couldn’t hold her breath any longer. She’d stop thrashing and let the water take hold of her until she sunk to the pretty iridescent blue tiles at the bottom of the pool. Brandi snorted in amusement. She imagined due to her husband’s standing in the community and his wealth that her death would be ruled a suicide. He’d cry and boo-hoo on camera while his many mistresses eagerly lined up, hoping he’d pick one of them to become Mrs. Clark Wright.
They could have him.
“You find something funny?” Brandi heard from above her. She remained silent. She’d rather he become upset because she was silent than because she said something wrong. He popped her upside the head but still didn’t receive a response from her. “Are you fucking deaf? You hear me talking to you, Brandi. Don’t fucking ignore me!” he growled, popping her again, this time much harder than before.
“It was just a joke I remembered. That’s all.”
“A joke, huh? Tell me this joke.”
“You wouldn’t want to hear it.”
“Obviously, I fucking do if I asked. Don’t make me ask again.”
Brandi swiftly searched the recesses of her mind, speeding through it like a Rolodex to try and remember a joke.
“What type of sandals do frogs wear?” Brandi gave Clark a few seconds to answer. He blankly stared at her, waiting for the punchline. “Open toad.”
Brandi tittered at the joke. Truthfully, it had been forever since she’d genuinely laughed. The sound was foreign to them both. Clark narrowed his eyes into slits, not appreciating how carefree his wife was. He hated to see her smile, and he cringed when she laughed. Clark hated everything about her, even the fact that she was still breathing. He didn’t marry her for love but for what she brought to the table. She was beyond beautiful with her deep brown cat-like eyes, full kissable lips, and a body that wouldn’t quit. Even now, while he hated her existence, Clark couldn’t resist the deep hue of her sun-kissed melanated skin. He hated how Brandi’s presence could dominate a room as soon as she entered, stealing all the attention away from him. Everyone’s focus should’ve been on him, but he would pass party-goers who would whisper about how beautiful Brandi was. One even went as far as comparing Brandi to a goddess. Clark beat her that night to remind her that she wasn’t anything special and needed to learn to stay in her place. She remained in bed for a week with a few fractured ribs and a nasty concussion.
“If you tell me another lame-ass joke like that again, I’ll murder you,” Clark threatened. Brandi’s giggles ceased immediately. “That’s better. I’m going out of town for a business meeting for a few days. Remember, you can leave the house, but you can’t go outside of a five-mile radius. I’ll know if you do. Don’t get any ideas to run away. You tried that before. You remember what I did to you, right?” Clark asked, running a finger down Brandi’s tense jaw.
The urge to slap Clark’s hand away was almost too much to bear. She didn’t have the balls to do it. He’d crack her head open like an egg, leaving her brain matter sizzling on the flagstaff stones surrounding the pool.
“I remember,” Brandi absentmindedly mumbled. She recalled that day like it was yesterday. After a year of careful planning, Brandi finally had the courage and the opportunity to make a break. She thought she was home free when she made it across the state line to Louisiana. She rested that night at a motel off the beaten path. It neared three in the morning when the flimsy motel room door was kicked in, causing her to scream bloody murder. Clark pounced on her and beat her until she was almost unrecognizable. He repeatedly punched her in the face, choked her, spit on her, kicked her in the ribs, stomped on her, and beat her with his belt. And if that wasn’t enough, he had his way with her right there on the floor. All Brandi could do was whimper in pain through her jaw, which was broken in three places. She was dragged back to Texas, and any thoughts of her leaving Clark were thrown out of the window. It took months for Brandi to feel comfortable leaving their home again. She didn’t want to give Clark the misconception that she was attempting to run away. As fucked up as it sounded, she was safer in the home than outside of it.
“What did I tell you about leaving me?” Clark asked, gently kissing her cheek. He couldn’t help the dark chuckle that escaped him as his wife’s tears streamed down her face. He licked her cheek, gathering each delicious salty drop. He loved tormenting her. He had to give it to her. She’d put on a solid front for a while, but he knew her inside and out; he knew what her triggers were. “What did I tell you about leaving me?” Clark asked again.
“The next time I leave you. I’ll be leaving in a body bag,” Brandi answered in a robotic tone.
“That’s a good girl. I’ll be back soon. You better behave yourself. By the way, a new pool company is starting today,” Clark said, standing to his feet. Brandi closed her eyes when she heard him unzip his pants and begin to pee in Big Blue. The blatant disrespect eviscerated through her soul. He couldn’t let her have anything.
Clark finished his business, popped Brandi in the back of the head once more, and exited the backyard.
“I’m gonna kill him,” Brandi whispered, pulling her feet out of the pool. “I’m gonna kill him,” she repeated once more, this time with a little more conviction.
