I don't own MR
Fair warning; strong language ahead.
On their good days they huddled together for warmth in their house. The heater was broken and winter was marching on their doorstep, waiting to break in. They held each other close and Dylan would poke at the fireplace in hopes it would keep them warm enough. Max would put in the longest movie she could find and they would meld together and watch it, shivering in each other's arms. Those were the best days.
On their bad days they sat on different sides of the room. Blankets were the only warmth and winter might as well have broke in with the icy glares they shot at each other. Dylan would yell, Max would scream, something would be thrown, someone always got hurt.
The night of their bad days Dylan would always apologize for the new scar he had created on Max's body, and Max would always kiss him timidly, as if that would set him off again, and allow him to sleep next to her. Although each fight was a new line crossed, and there were only so many warnings before one of them stepped off the cliff.
Today was a bad day.
Max knew money was tight. Money was always tight with Dylan. There was no give, no leeway. She had a budget and too many dollars over would erupt the volcano that bubbled up inside of her husband of seven years. Sometimes she wished he wouldn't come back when he stormed out, but then she remembered that she couldn't survive on her own- not without a job anyways. She had always meant to get one, but her vicious attitude wasn't exactly a heartbreaker.
"What the hell, Max?" Dylan greeted as she stepped in through the garage door into their kitchen. Heavy plastic bags lined her arms, weighing her down as she kicked the door shut behind her.
"My day was fine thanks for asking, how was work?" Max snarled in reply, confused as to why he was angry but not about to back down. She was sick and tired of backing down, of shrinking in a corner. Eventually he'd tower over her and she'd do it, but as long as he sat in front of the computer, their bank account pulled up, she felt strong.
"Pretty damn bad when I can't even afford lunch out of our Chase account." The growl was there, the hatred in his eyes, the feelings of guilt in Max's. This was not about to be a short fight.
"I got groceries so we could have dinner," She snapped, although he was already getting to his feet. She sat the bags down, casually walking over to the refrigerator in hopes of putting some distance between them.
"Well it better be cooked fast because I'm hungry, Bitch." The first of many names to be slung back and forth between them. If this was their first fight Max might have cried, he might have forgiven her, but it wasn't. In seven years they'd had so many she couldn't even remember where one ended and the other began. Her resolve was beginning to crack.
"Don't call me that, Bastard," She sneered, turning to him with a glare stronger than a tornado's winds that soon faded into a breeze. She was more terrified of their proximity than angry. When had he crossed the whole kitchen?
"I gave you a budget and you couldn't even handle it. Why are you so freaking stupid?" His hands slammed on either side of her head, boxing her in, making her feel small and weak. Max always felt small and weak in his arms. Even on their good days- although on those rare drops of sunlight in their stormy marriage she was okay with that feeling. She liked feeling protected, like she didn't have to be the one to take control.
"I'm sorry, okay? I just wanted to buy enough to get us through a couple weeks."
"Sorry?" Dylan chuckled, and Max winced. She hated it when the dark sound fell out of his mouth. It meant she was about to get it. "Sorry doesn't make up for the fact that we're broke because of you! How the hell are we supposed to support a kid if you can't even keep a hundred bucks in our account?"
"Well maybe if you wouldn't have bought a forty thousand dollar car we wouldn't be having this argument!" Max yelled, attempting to stand up for herself. Vaguely, she remembered a time when she could actually do that. Back when they were just dating and Dylan hadn't realized that hitting her was a fun way to let off steam.
Iggy knew I shouldn't have married him. Fang objected at our wedding. Even Nudge hated him, but I never saw it.
Max saw the flare in Dylan's eyes, a sign that he was about to lay it on her, and watched as his fist pulled back to be sprung forward, and despite herself she reacted. Her fist flew out instinctually, popping him in the nose before she ducked under his receding arms and sprinted for their room. She couldn't believe she had just done that. Dylan obviously couldn't believe it either because he stood still in the kitchen out of pure shock for a moment before his raw fury revved.
The door was shut and locked by the time Dylan started banging on it. "Open up, Bitch! If I have to break down this door you're not gonna like what I do to you!" Instead of listening like she normally should have, Max darted into their master bathroom, closing and locking that door as well. She could hear a loud banging, crackling noises, creaking as hinges struggled to stay put.
Every new shout, new crash, new bang left her heart racing at twice the beat it was before. Her body trembled so violently she wasn't sure she could move without falling. It was all too much. Her breathing became ragged, shallow, broken quick gasps that didn't quite fill her lungs. Everything blurred. The door to the master bedroom broke with a splintering noise that left her stumbling backwards.
"Max, you crazy bitch, there's a key to unlock the bathroom door." Dylan sang, laughter falling out of his mouth. If she had been breathing before, she couldn't now.
A slight ding echoed off the walls of the bathroom suddenly, and she flinched before realizing it wasn't metal clanking against metal. It was her phone.
With quivering hands Max yanked the cell phone out of her pocket, attempting to tap the lock code in once, twice, three times.
Phone Locked for 30 Seconds.
No. A sob racked through Max's body as she fell into her closet, closing the door. Only there was no lock on that, and although Dylan hadn't found the key yet it was only a matter of time.
Ten seconds had gone by. She could hear drawers slamming open and shut, and she felt tears glide down her cheeks. He was getting closer. She didn't want to be hit anymore. She didn't want to live with this fear. Arguments were healthy, whatever they were doing wasn't.
Finally, her phone allowed her to press shaky fingers against the correct code. She moved slowly despite her adrenaline rush, careful to punch in each number correctly before hastily getting to her contacts and scrolling up and down, up and down, up and down.
Where was Iggy's name, or Fang's? She couldn't find it. It wasn't there. Panic obliterated her sense of reason and she blindly clicked on a name to call. She needed somebody; anybody. The phone rang once. Another drawer opened.
It rang twice. Dylan snickered.
"Hello?"
"Nudge! OhmyGod, Nudge! Nudge, Ineedhelp-"
"Max, take a deep breath. What's going on?" Max answered with a sob. She had never ran from Dylan like this before. She had never locked the door and not opened it. She was terrified of what he'd do to her.
"Dylan and I are fighting. Nudge, I need help." She heard a sigh on the other line. A drawn out sigh that made her think her old friend was rolling her eyes.
"I don't see why I should bother, Max. You two always fight and you always go back." She spat through the phone, causing the terrified girl to flinch.
"Nudge please, I-" Max's voice fell off the edge of a cliff as the sound of a metal key being jammed into a hole resignated through the bathroom.
"Please Nudge, just call Fang or Iggy or somebody and tell them to come help me. I- I don't know if I'll-"
The door opened with a loud bang as the knob slammed against the wall. Suddenly Dylan was towering over her, a delusional smirk on his face as he snatched the phone out of her shaking hands with ease.
"Max, Max what's going on?" It occurred to the girl sitting in the closet then as she listened to her friend that she never told anyone that Dylan hit her, that he kicked her and punched her and broke her. Nudge just thought they fought. Nobody knew the truth.
Dylan hung up the phone before throwing it against a wall. The case caught most of the damage, but the screen still shattered. Small pieces of glass that glinted in the light just like her tears shone. Now she'd have no one to help her. "Why did you call Nudge?" Dylan snarled, although he already knew, and instead of listening to her stutter for an answer the twenty-eight year old grabbed Max by her brown hair, pulling her up to her feet.
"Ow, stop it!" Max shrieked, but all she could do was hold her head as her vision began to black out and her breathing stopped and she landed against a wall by her phone, the tiny glass tears ripping through her flesh. It wasn't until she was laying on the tile that she realized he had shoved her as far away as she could go. It wasn't until her vision cleared that she noticed all the blood.
"You better stop crying wolf Max, or one day he'll blow you down and no one will be there to help you," Dylan promised, right before his foot connected with her stomach. She yelped and wrapped her arms around the hard flesh, a light bulb flashing in her mind as his shoe connected with her rib cage. The baby.
She was pregnant and he knew it. What was he doing? Aim for her head or her legs, or anywhere but their precious child. "Stop, stop. What about Sophie?" Max pleaded, her voice a watery mess as she wrapped her arms around herself tighter in an attempt to protect their unborn child.
"I don't want another slut like you around." Dylan spat, his foot connecting with Max's arms that had built a barrier around her stomach. She squeezed her eyes shut in terror, hoping the pain would stop, the tears would stop, that his voice would stop. She just wanted it all to end.
She wasn't sure if it was minutes or hours later when he finally decided to leave. Logically, she knew there was no way he'd bother hurting her for two or three hours straight, but mentally she felt as if her pain was enough to hold her over for a lifetime.
Max knew she laid there for hours, in her own blood and tears, before she finally dragged herself into a sitting position. Taking a deep breath, the broken woman leaned against the wall her phone had been thrown against, glancing around the mess of a bathroom. Dylan would expect it to be cleaned when he got back- probably the only reason he hadn't killed her.
In the comfort of silence she closed her eyes again, letting herself picture a better world where Dylan wasn't abusive, where he was so happy about having a little girl that he was too busy painting a room and building a crib to argue about money. Of course, that would never happen, and a ding from her phone dragged her out of the false reality she dreamed of.
From the cracked screen on her phone she could just barely make out all the missed calls from Nudge. Max reached her arm out for the phone, wincing in pain as she picked it up and struggled to unlock it through the spiderweb cracks. When she finally did however, she called Nudge back, putting her on speaker so she wouldn't have to hold the broken glass to her ear.
"Max, what happened?" Nudge exclaimed, panic sliding into her voice.
"Nothing, it was just a fight." Max lied through her teeth. She had never been a good liar, but she didn't want to tell Nudge. She had to handle this by herself. If anybody else got hurt because of her she'd never forget it.
"Just a fight my ass. What. Did. He. Do?" Nudge growled out.
"I don't want to bother you with my crap, okay? I'll fix it. I should have never called, I'm sorry." Max spoke honestly.
"I'm coming over." Nudge decided, and Max could physically see her friend about to hang up the phone.
"Wait! No, don't. I'll tell you ,but you have to promise to stay where you are." Max shot out wildly, hoping her friend would listen. For a long time Nudge didn't answer, and it wasn't until Max was sure she'd hung up that she finally sighed in frustration.
"Alright, start from the beginning." And that's exactly what Max did. She recalled everything her hazy mind remembered, and when she was finally done silence engulfed the line for a long time before Nudge finally spoke.
"I'm calling Iggy and Fang. They're going to find the son of a bitch and he won't live to see another day-"
"Nudge, no. I need to handle this." Max persisted, cutting her friend off.
"Max, Sophie could be dead. That baby growing inside of your stomach that you're so excited about? She could be gone. And it's all Dylan's fault. I'm not letting you do this alone."
"You have to though. How am I ever going to win if I let everyone else fight my battles?" Max insisted, staggering to her feet and leaning heavily against the wall for support. She could only put a minimal amount of weight on her left foot although she couldn't remember what had happened to cause that.
"Max, at this point you need someone to help you fight this. You can't beat Dylan alone. He's got a hundred pounds and an easy foot of height on you." Nudge argued, and I weakly limped to Dylan's closet, falling in and looking around for the case I knew would be there.
"No, Nudge, I can't…" Max's voice trailed off at the sound of an engine roaring. he was home. She had no time, "He's back, I have to go."
"No, Max, don't hang-" Max hung up. The door opened and closed, and his footsteps waded towards her.
"You piece of shit, you better be cleaning that bathroom up!" Dylan yelled. She heard the refrigerator open and close, and then the popping noise of a can being opened. Hastily, Max pulled the case off the top shelf, fumbling with the clasps on both sides.
"You're going to fix the damn door too. It's your fault it broke." His voice was louder, closer. Her heart beat quickened once more as her fingers wrapped around the pistol. It was loaded, but the safety wasn't on. Perfect. She didn't know how to change that setting anyways.
"What the hell are you doing?" Dylan's voice snarled, and Max spun around, the pistol shaking as she held it out in front of her, two fingers on the trigger. It was aimed at Dylan's chest.
"Holy fuck, where'd you get that?" He breathed out, his voice demanding but his aqua eyes wild with the type of fear she'd felt ever since three months after their honeymoon.
"A girl tends to remember where the guy puts the gun after he aims it at her." Max sneered, taking a step towards him. He countered with two steps back.
"Max, look, I know we're a little crazy, but-"
"We're?" Max laughed at that. She couldn't help herself. "Try you! Who the hell tries to kill their own kid?"
"Sweetheart, please. put the gun down," Dylan spoke cautiously, timing each word as if one fast syllable would get his brains blown out.
"Oh so now I'm your sweetheart, huh? Now that I can kill you, now that I have the upper hand? Well I'm not putting it down until you leave and don't come back." Max's voice shook, but her arms were slowly steadying. Her fingers still tapped at the trigger, though she had no true intention of pulling it. Despite her hatred towards his dark side, she still loved the Dylan she had on the good days.
"Max, Baby, please. We can talk this out, can't we?" Dylan moved to set the coke in his hand down on the countertop.
"Talking it out ended when you kicked me." Max spat, although her fierce stature didn't last too long. In the blink of an eye the coke in his hand had redirected itself into a weapon. The sugary liquid spewed all over Max as Dylan threw the can at her and dived for the gun. It wasn't until after she had fallen back into the closet that the ringing in her ears became acquainted with the sheen of smoke drizzling out of the barrel.
She had pulled the trigger.
For a moment Max only laid on the floor, having dropped the gun after however many bullets had been shot. She wasn't sure she wanted to look up and see what she had hit. All the same though, she knew she'd have to sooner or later.
Slowly, Max sat up on her elbows, looking past her feet and over to the limp body lying on the floor. Dylan. Blood was pooling around him as she pushed herself to her feet. It was then Max noticed the two bullet holes in his chest, the dim, unfocused look in his eyes.
He was dead.
All of her fears languidly began to drain, all of her nightmares, the things that clawed at her eyes to keep her up at night. It all began to fade as she stared at her victim. Or was she the victim? She wasn't sure, and she didn't have the strength, mentally or physically, to think about it.
Putting all her weight against the nearest wall, Max dragged herself out of her bathroom filled with a mixture of pain, blood, and tears, and away from their bedroom where some of her darkest memories laid scattered around. The big bad wolf in her life was gone. She would never have to worry about him again.
Hey guys,
To be honest I had no intention of posting this. I was writing this as a sort of practice to help me get into the feel of darker stuff before I really start a story I'm working on.
I know I always ask this but I'd really appreciate some reviews, guys. Like tear this apart and help me out here. I just wanna get to the best that I can be with this type of writing.
Stay Majestic
VR
