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My Hell — Episode 4

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I woke up; I was laid on the back seats of the car. My head throbbed, I ran my fingers over my head, and blood poured down my face. Peter was driving with a gun on his lap; he had come to kill me.

“Ahh, the b***h is finally awake. You’re going to regret the day you left me.” Peter spat through gritted teeth.
“Peter, please. Don’t do this.”
“Shut up, b***h. I didn’t say you could speak.”

After 10 minutes Peter pulled into a motel, no one was in sight. He opened my car door and dragged me out by my hair. Everything was deserted, and I knew what was coming. He pushed me into a small dingy room.

He dragged me to the bed then poured himself a large brandy, he gulped it back in 1 before coming towards me, he punched me hard in the eye, I could feel the swelling immediately, stars danced in my eyes, the pain was unbearable.

He didn’t stop there, he pulled his fist back and punched me in the mouth this time before returning to the brandy. Tears sprang to my eyes. He was punishing me, punishing me for leaving. I curled myself into a ball and cried. “It’s your fault I do this, Jodie. Everything was perfect before you decided to run away. You did this.” chat Martinmartino on zero eight one eighty thirty fourteen twenty one to be added to his whatsapp group.

After Peter had finished the whole bottle, he swayed over to me and sat down beside me, he grabbed me by the hair and forced me to stand up, he then punched me in the stomach, I fell to the floor in pain, he just laughed and climbed into the bed.

I crawled into the bathroom and locked the door behind me. I clung to the sink and pulled myself up, I was unrecognizable, my eyes were almost swollen shut, dried blood stuck to my face and mouth. Never has he marked me this much.

After a while, I opened the door. Peter was still laid on the bed, but all of a sudden he was in front of me, his face inches from mine, he held a blade to my throat, I shivered at the coldness of it. “I’m going to make this slow and painful,” he spat.

He ran the blade down my face, blood flowed instantly, I could feel it running down my face and neck. My whole body was numb. I wanted him to kill me; I wanted it too finally be over. I was ready, I was ready to die. His dark evil eyes burnt into mine as he took the knife and ran it down my arm, again blood poured, but I didn’t care. He couldn’t hurt me any more than he already had. He walked towards the bed and placed the knife on the bedside cabinet.

I laid on the dirty floor and waited for it to end. A few minutes later the room filled with the sound of Peter snoring away. I slowly walked towards him; I grabbed the knife from the cabinet and held it for a few seconds. Without even thinking, I plunged the knife deep into his chest.

His eyes shot open, and blood poured from his mouth, I stood over him, just watching him, with the bloody knife tightly wrapped in my hand. Looking at him now, I felt nothing, nothing, but hate. I dropped the knife on the floor and sank to the floor. It was over. I knew he was going to die, and that was fine with me. I grabbed the motel phone and called 911.

“911, what’s your emergency?” came a woman’s voice.
“I’ve just stabbed my husband,” I said calmly.
I gave the address and hung up. Within minutes, I heard sirens. Police and ambulance raced into the room. I felt someone pull me up, I was lead to an ambulance. Everything around me became blurry, and my eyes started to shut.

When I opened my eyes, I was in a hospital bed, my mother was sat at the side of me, and a police officer was stood at the door watching me. My mother grabbed my hand. My eyes were still blurry from the swelling. “It’s ok, dear, I’m here,” my mother sobbed.

“Excuse me, Mrs. Brown, we need to ask your daughter a few questions,” said the police as another one appeared in the room
“Of course. I’ll be right outside dear,” my mother said to me.

“Hello, Jodie. I’m Sergeant Jones and this is Sergeant Hills. We need to take a statement.”
After an hour I finished giving my statement. Before they left the room, I turned to Sergeant Jones.
“Is he dead?” I asked.
“Mr. Williams is in a critical condition,” he said before leaving.

After three days in the hospital, I was discharged with 3 broken ribs, a broken jaw, and a fractured eye socket.

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