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4
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Amy entered the bathroom. She slipped off her robe and got into the shower.
Thoughts of Mort filled her head-- Which was a strange thing to be happening. She had not thought of Mort in so many years. Mainly because thinking of Mort always brought pain. Pain of losing him and pain of his torment.
But now, with the mention of him, she began to remember him. Memories of him that she had spent so much time and money trying to forget.
She had had good times with him, fun times. And many of her memories conveyed their great times together. But, many of them didn't.
Suddenly she began to daydream...
It was a flashback of their honeymoon.
"Oh, Mort.." Amy said, standing in the doorway of their hotel room. She was wearing a silk robe. Nothing else.
Mort, who was lying on the bed, raised his head and his eyes caught on Amy standing there. A look of delight spread over his face.
"Have you been a nice boy, or a naughty boy?" Amy asked in an innocent voice as she made her way from the doorway to the bed.
"I've been a naughty boy," Mort said, raising his eyebrows up and down, "I think you should punish me."
"Why, I think you're right you bad, bad boy. Naughty boys MUST be punished. It's only right," Amy said, dropping her robe to the ground. She climbed up on the bed and on top of Mort.
"Well, there's nothing I can say to defend myself. So I think it would be best if you had your way with me. Teach me to be good," Mort said.
Amy began unbuttoning his shirt.
"I'll do my best," Amy said, taking off Mort's unbuttoned shirt. "But it's hard to teach naughty boys how to be good." She unzipped his pants.
"Maybe if you taught me a few times.. the message would really sink in," Mort said as Amy slid off his pants.
"Whatever you say, naughty boy," Amy said.
And they made love.
The flashback faded...
"We had such good times together, Mort. But why couldn't they always be good?" Amy said to herself in the shower, as she washed.
She began to daydream again...
It was a flashback of a time when Mort had come home one day, drunk as hell.
Mort slammed the front door of the house shut.
"Amy!" He yelled. "Ohh..," He almost fell over, "Amy!"
Amy came to the front of the house and saw Mort, disheveled and drunk.
"Mort. Have you been drinking again?" Amy asked nervously.
"Why the fuck's it always 20 questions with you when I get home? Eh?" Mort yelled.
"Mort, you're drunk. Just sit down and I'll bring you your dinner," Amy said.
"Don't fucking tell me what the fuck to do!" He yelled and slapped her across the face.
Amy gasped and grabbed her struck face, "Mort! Just calm down! You don't know what you're saying or doing right now!"
"Don't know what I'm saying or doing? What the fuck does that mean?" He grabbed Amy by the arm, "I'll show you who doesn't know what the fuck they're saying or doing!" He pulled her along with him.
"Mort! Where are you taking me? Wh--?" Amy screamed.
Mort dragged her up to the bedroom and threw her down on the bed.
"Ahhh!" She screamed.
He raped her.
The flashback faded...
She began to cry in the shower.