Two LIVES Were Lost...HIS And MINE.

   I have always been a fighter that's how my father raised us. And being the youngest of five and the only girl I soon acquired the necessary skills to defend myself. I was never the starter but I was always the finisher when a physical confrontation ensued. I only fought when talking just seemed to escalate the situation. To be honest even though I was great at it I didn't like to argue or fight. But because of the thrill I got from fighting I also developed a temper that few could stand to weather. So when we got serious and started spending more time together I will admit I was impressed with his patience. No matter how far off the handle I flew he stayed composed until I calmed down. We eventually became best friends and lovers then after about eight years of dating we were joined as husband and wife. He was the voice of understanding whenever something or someone upset me. He did his best to tolerate my outburst of rage. For reasons I still don't know to this day I began to hit him when we got into heated debates. It first started out as light punches on his chest and pushes on his back when he was trying to walk away from me. Then as my temper became harder to manage so did my physical attacks on him.

   To his credit he never struck back at me even though I gave him every reason to do so because if he had he would have just been defending himself. I did love him but I could not explain why I became so angry that I would result to assaulting him when we were at odds. Maybe it was my desire to fight and win that was created during my childhood that escalated into real violence as an adult in a relationship. Maybe it was his  non-confrontational response that riled me up even more. To this day I still do not know what caused me to treat him the way I did. It wasn't fair to ask him to accept me as I was but he did without question. Then one night it all changed. I was mad at him for spending so many hours at the office even though I knew he was working harder to get in line for a promotion but I went off anyway. I accused him of cheating and at the height of my intensity and anger I slapped him.

   Something changed in him at that moment as if he had finally had enough. I saw it in his face. He had taken a lot of my abuse but the slap must have triggered what he was restraining after all those years because he raised his hand and slapped me back. That should have been the moment when I realized the consequences of my acts but instead I took it as a challenge. It was the catalyst the boiled me up into attack mode. We then engaged in a full blown fist fight. By the time the cops had kicked in the door my husband, the love of my life was hunched against the fridge bleeding badly from the knife I had just driven into his chest. I remember the look of pain in his eyes. Not so much the pain from the wound but the pain that the woman he had loved and tolerated for so long had literally cut him so deep. Upon witnessing the aftermath of our brawl the officers immediately placed me into hand-cuffs and he was rushed to the emergency room. I was allowed to see him because he requested my presence. But it would be the last moment we would share together. He died that night of the injuries I had inflicted upon him with my own hands. Before his last breath he told me he forgave me and that he never stopped loving me despite the abuse. My heart broke into a thousand pieces that night as I watched his heart stop beating and flat line. And every night since I sit in this cell thinking about that fateful day. It was that day that I should've had the wisdom to lose that fight but because I didn't that day we lost two lives...his and mine.

Be GREAT TODAY, because you may not get the time to be tomorrow.
TWIL