The Housemaid’s Wedding: A Short Story

This man is going to kill me.

There is murder in his eyes. I’ve seen enough in my lifetime to recognize the danger that I’m in. This man will not wait for an explanation. He will not even allow me a split second to catch my breath. He will end me.

It’s just the two of us in this stifling, claustrophobic space. He made certain of that—he stalked me and waited until the moment I was alone, then he locked the door behind us. Now here we are.

And he can do whatever he wants to me. Nobody knows I’m here.

My nose is bruised, possibly broken. Blood streams from my nostrils in warm rivulets, dripping down my lips. It tastes metallic. Slamming his fist into my nose is one of the first things he did to me, before even saying hello. It was his way of letting me know he means business.

“I will break every single bone in your body,” he hisses at me.

He means it. Oh God, he definitely means it.

I never thought my day would end up this way. If I had known—if I had any idea at all what this man would do to me—I would have made very different decisions this morning. I thought I could handle this, but from the beginning, I was in over my head. I had no idea.

It’s my fault I’m here. I made a terrible mistake.

And now it’s too late.