Broken

CW: Suicide or self harm, physical violence, domestic abuse, mental health

The Family Court Hearing

She got Hannah. She got my daughter. I never thought she'd pull it off but she did. I never even hit the little girl—unless you count the two or three times I pushed her and she fell. Those don’t count.

I know I was a lousy husband. Everybody knew it. But I loved Hannah. If she wants to take Hannah away from me, so be it. I thought I’d at least get weekend custody. Hell, visitation for Christ’s sake! Something.

So now I have nothing. She gets my daughter, my house and even my car. All I have is my job. I don’t even have a place to live.

I’ll rent a studio apartment.

Or maybe I’ll just kill myself. I could do it, too. I really mean it this time. The way I feel right now I could put a bullet in my head. I won’t cut the wrists, though. Too creepy.

Pills, maybe.

No, I’ll rent a studio and work off the debt. What’s the balance, these days? Twenty thousand? About that much, I suppose. If I cut my expenses I can work that off in no time. Then it’ll be over.

Two Months after the Hearing

I never thought I could give up eating meat. Hell, I work in the meat department at the market. Since the day the judge made it real, I’ve only been eating vegetables, rice and bread. Generic brands. Spare every expense. I don’t have cable—I don’t even have a TV. No phone. Who would call? Just a place to spend the time I’m not at work. I don’t even drink anymore. Aside from vodka.

Just one bottle or two every couple of days. Not the high end stuff—the cheapest brand I can find. It tastes like piss. At least piss is something. My meals don’t even have taste. It’s like I’m eating absence.

But I’m saving up, and I’m paying off that loan. An honest man keeps his promises. The bank was nice enough to lend it, and I promised to pay it back.

Four Months after the Hearing

Hannah’s gonna go stay with her grandparents in a few months. She goes every year, same time. Just for a week, ever since the operation. We figured she’d heal better in the country than here. We live next to the highway.

Hannah looks forward to it. That was always when my wife gave it to me the worst. She wouldn’t yell too much in front of Hannah unless she had to. But when Hannah was out of town…

I’ve lost weight. I don’t have a scale so I’m not sure quite how much. I had to poke new holes on my belt. My pants are all baggy and folded over at the waist. Won’t buy new ones, though. Not worth it. Who do I have to impress?

The boss asked if everything was all right. I guess he heard about the divorce and noticed the weight loss and got curious. Or he’s just covering his own ass. Maybe he thinks I’ll go off the deep end and start killing. He’ll be able to say that he tried to do something about it. I don’t own a gun. My only knives are for butter.

I don’t even own them, in fact.

They were in the apartment when I moved in. I’ll probably be expected to leave them when I go. I’ve spared every expense.

Whatever’s left after rent and groceries [and my tiny gas and electric bill] goes toward the loan. It’s being paid off well ahead of schedule. Hundreds extra every month.

The bitch didn’t even want alimony. She does alright for herself. She’s got a good job. Probably figures I wouldn’t pay anyway.

She doesn’t even know about the loan. She thought my health insurance covered Hannah’s operation. I never told her that they cut my insurance a few months before the girl got sick. The loan was for hospital fees and I’ve been paying it in secret ever since. It’s probably best she doesn’t know.

Six Months after the Hearing

I saw them today. I saw my wife and Hannah. They were in my car on their way to my house while I sleep in a shithole. I saw them as I walked the two miles home from work. Sometimes it rains.

She pretended not to notice, but Hannah saw me. I could tell Hannah was waving and talking excitedly. That woman pretended not to notice and kept driving.

She’ll see.

Seven Months after the Hearing

I lost another tooth today. A molar. It just fell out while I was eating rice and vegetables with a little salt. Nothing crunchy, but there it went; out onto my plate. It was almost black. How long has it been since I brushed? Am I even getting any calcium?

The morning of the hearing. Yeah, that was the last time I brushed. I wanted to make an impression on the judge. I even shaved. Some good it did me.

When I went to my locker at the end of my shift today, I found a pamphlet. Someone slipped it through one of the vent-holes. It was for an employee crisis help-office. I used to laugh about the saps using programs like that.

Eight Months Since

The loan is more than half paid off and it’s Hannah’s birthday. Five years old. I haven’t tried to call. The judge made it clear I shouldn’t bother. She lectured me about ‘abusive husbands being a stain on the fabric of society,’ or some such nonsense. What does she know? She doesn’t know the ways my wife used to lie.

Right to my face, she would say she was going to the store or out with friends. I always knew better, and made sure she knew that I knew.

She was told. Every bruise on her body and every black eye was a sign that I’d told her what she needed to know. Someday she’ll see that it was for her own good. After I’m gone.

I could have made a cake to celebrate Hannah’s birthday on my own, but what’s the point? I can sing over boiled asparagus on stale wheat bread just as well.

I lost one of my front teeth.

Every time I pronounce the ‘th’ sound, it’s like an ‘S’. Birthday sounds like burss-day. When I say words like worthless and death-wish, there’s a whistle. One of my fucking front teeth. It’s annoying. I don’t say much. It could be worse.

Ten Months

The loan is just about done.

When I wash myself in front of the bathroom mirror with my shirt off I can see ribs. All of them. I can see where my collarbone joins my shoulder and I can distinguish between my ulna and my radius, (if only I knew which was which). Those are the two bones of the lower arm, between the elbow and the wrist. Back when I was a bartender they made me take a first aid class. Now my head has a few more bits of useless knowledge.

I don’t have many teeth left. I stopped cooking since they shut the gas off. They killed it when I stopped paying, but what’s the difference? It’s springtime, and I’ve got a blanket.

Hannah will be going up the country soon. Her grandparents were always good to her. The wife’s parents. Mine are dead. Every summer, like clockwork. And this time my wife will have the whole house to herself.

At work I got yelled at again. This time it was Phil, the store’s janitor. He cornered me in the break room. It’s down in the basement and away from everyone. It’s small and has no windows. He told me that I was a pathetic waste. He said he knew what it was to suffer—to lose someone. Or something like that. I think he was drunk or high. He smelled funny.

Why do people do that? Why do they try to help?

Does each sad moron that works up the courage to confront me think that he’s gonna be the one that finally turns me around—the one that inspires me to ‘pull myself together’ and ‘get on with my life?’ Maybe he’ll inspire me to find Jesus, or some nonsense. I have no life—not without Hannah. The whore took Hannah away from me.

Roughly a year

One more paycheck should do it. The manager says he has to think about letting me go. “You’re falling apart and there’s nothing more I can do for you,” he said.

I told him I didn’t want him to do anything, and that I’d be out of his hair soon. I said I was going away to see old friends, and he seemed to like that idea. He mentioned that some coworkers were complaining about my smell.

Fifteen months, I guess

I found two letters waiting for me when I got home today. One was from the bank, thanking me for my business and stating that my debt to them had been paid in full. The other was an eviction notice. I stopped paying rent a month and a half ago. It all worked out in the end. Even, Steven.

I told my boss I was leaving work and he gave me what was owed, in cash. A little over seven hundred dollars. I’ve been trying to decide what to do with it.

I could buy a gun, but that’s too cliché. I could go skydiving and not pull the cord, but I heard they don’t let you jump alone the first time. There’s an instructor attached to you. I probably could lie to them, but it’s not worth the risk.

I could send the money to Hannah and then just hang myself. That’s pretty scary, though. What if it takes too long?

No cut wrists and no pills.

Will I write a note? What would it even say?

“Dear world: you never liked me and I never liked you. When you felt the need to send some scumbag my way to try and tell me my business, I made sure he knew his place.”

Yeah, I’ve beaten a lot of guys’ heads in. Fighting is one thing I was always good at. That got me what I wanted most of the time, until my wife called the cops. I didn’t even hit her that hard. Lord knows, I always held back on her. Not like those drunks in the bar.

There were times I’d demolish some rummy after I’d had about fifteen beers. Those fucking drunks are always looking for a goddamned fight. Why the hell is that?

So anyway, the seven hundred bucks and what to do with it. I could pay some bum to kill me with it.

Of course! I’ll just go out to that field by the train yards and offer the money to some low-life to end me. It’s perfect. They’ll find my body and it probably won’t even make the news. Just another waste, found dead and alone. ‘No one was looking for him, so there’s no one to grieve.’

I’ll bet Hannah misses me. That’s assuming she even remembers me.

The Last Night

The little prick just ran off! I explained the situation and the bastard took the money and vanished. I said, “This money is yours if you just kill me.” He took it and fled.

I was too weak to chase him. That bum must have been eating pretty well. He even had a gun on him! He dropped it as he ran off. Let’s see here…

There are three bullets in the chamber. Probably so old they won’t even fire.

-Bang!-

Oh, I guess it does work. Man, that was loud! Good thing I was aiming down. I doubt anyone heard it. Anyhow, that’s good news. I may be flat broke, but I just thought of the perfect way to finish this! First, I need to get to the house. My fucking house! It’s not too far.

This is the week Hannah is upstate with her grandparents. She won’t be home for six days. I figure she’ll miss the whole ordeal this way. All the cops and the cleanup and whatnot.

The whore is all alone.

Ten Minutes Later

The basement window isn’t locked, just like I’d hoped. The lock is broken. I broke it one night when I came home from the bar. I’d just beaten the snot out of some worthless drunk in the parking lot and wanted to go to bed. And she locked the front door on me.

I broke the lock on this window, dragged that fucking beast of a woman from her bed and kicked her in the teeth. That was the night the cops got called. I don’t know if it was her or the neighbors that called. I could’ve sworn she was out cold.

I avoided jail time. Who would’ve thought the Legal Aid attorney would be so effective!

Anyway, I’m in the house. And she isn’t even here. That figures. I’ll have to wait until she gets here. I’ll go up to her bedroom.

An Hour Later

I just heard a car pull up, and then the front door of the house opened. Now there are footsteps coming up the stairs. That bitch will learn. She’s almost to the door. This’ll teach her not to fuck with a good man! I’ll show her. I’m ready for it. Here she comes…

Epilogue

The door opened and a figure stepped into the room. He pointed the gun up under his chin and fired. It was a large caliber bullet, and there was a good amount of his blood and brain matter on the ceiling. The person that walked in, though, was Hannah.

She’d been struggling since the divorce, and wanted to stay with her mother instead of going upstate. Hannah and her mother had just gotten back from a party, and they decided to stay up and watch a movie together. Hannah went upstairs to the master bedroom to get two pillows and a blanket, while her mother put some popcorn in the microwave.

The party made Hannah smile for the first time in months. She seemed genuinely excited, and her mother didn’t want that feeling to end.