Sane.

This is a short monologue that I wrote for my creative writing class last semester. This was the version I came up with before I edited it and changed up the story. This is based on actual events. Obviously, some of the story has been dramatized.

    Hi. Um...(Playing with hands nervously). I never really know how to start these kind of things. Oh, I guess I should start from the beginning.

    I’m an ordinary girl. I went to school, got fairly decent grades, graduated high school in 2009, attended college...ya know, a typical girl.

    I never really dated much in high school. The school I went to was a fairly small school...only 25 in my graduating class. So, the guys that went there were more like buddies than boyfriends. Plus, I was never really good around guys. I was always kind of viewed as one of them, never really “girlfriend material.”

    Can I tell you a secret? I didn’t get my first kiss until I was 19! It’s because I never really thought I was...pretty enough...for any guy to give me a second look. No guy had ever showed any particular interest. But then, I met him.

    Alex and I met one summer while I was volunteering at a local hospital. I was delivering flowers to the patients, and he was my last stop. He was a Marine injured overseas, and was in the Intensive Care Unit. (She smiles to herself at the memory) Do you know what the first thing he said to me was? (Giggling softly) He said, “Wow. I didn’t know women as beautiful as you worked here.” (Beat.) With that one compliment, I was hooked. It felt so nice to have a guy actually call me beautiful for once.

    After that day, I always went up to visit him when I was delivering flowers. We talked and laughed and I fell in love with him more and more each day. After he got out of the hospital, he took me out on a proper date. He was a gentleman. He...(Giggles) he even brought me the same kind of flowers I brought him when we first met. And at the end of the night, he kissed me. I saw fireworks, heard the Hallelujah chorus, everything. And I seriously thought I was going to marry him one day. Raise a family. Be happy. But then...then things went wrong.

    I remember our first fight as if it was yesterday. And it was over something so stupid, I, I can’t even remember what it was. But we got mad at each other, but mere hours later it was like nothing happened. About a week later, we got into another fight because I was going to hang out with my friends that evening. He got so mad, he...he hit me. Right here. (Points to right cheek). Now, my entire life, I always promised myself that if I were ever in a relationship that showed signs of abuse, I would walk away and never look back. But..with Alex...I felt like...I couldn’t. I knew that I could never do any better than Alex. And I told myself that he loved me, and that he didn’t mean to hit me, and that it was my own fault for not telling him I was going to hang out with my friends sooner. I apologized, and so did he. And he promised me that he would never hit me again. And he didn’t. For a while.

    Two weeks later, I went over to his house to spend time with him. He hadn’t gotten home yet, so I decided to just relax on the couch and watch some TV. When he came in 10 minutes later, he didn’t even acknowledge me. He just sat down next to me and changed the channel. I didn’t say anything. He turned and looked at me and said, “Oh, were you watching something?” All I said was “Yes.” He stood up, and yelled at me, “Oh well I’m sorry for fucking wanting to watch something I enjoy after busting my ass all fucking day long at work!” He hit me again. And again. I apologized. He didn’t.

    But...do you want to know something? I wasn’t hurt by the beatings. Makeup covered the bruises. And if I ever had any broken bones, I'd make up some story about how I fell down the stairs, or tripped in the hallway. I could handle the beatings. What hurt the most was that he no longer called me beautiful, gorgeous, pretty...or any of the other compliments he’d given me. I was a slut, skank, bitch, whore, piece of shit, worthless girl who he tolerated because he felt sorry for me. Now, I know what you’re thinking. Why didn’t I just leave him? You don’t understand...when he treated me good, I felt like a princess. I guess, I thought maybe all relationships had rough patches, and some were rougher than others. This was just a rough patch that would be over soon. But I was wrong.

    There is one night that I don’t think I will ever be able to forget. No matter how many times I try. I went to see Alex after school one day, and when I walked in...there he was...on the couch...naked...on top of a girl...about to have sex with her. As soon as I walked in, the girl scrambled up to get her clothes and left, without saying a word. I didn’t stop her. I couldn’t. I was frozen.

    Alex...he just...shrugged his shoulders, and told me that he wasn’t getting what he wanted from me, so he was getting it from somewhere else. When he finally walked up to me, he threw me on the ground and started stripping off my clothes. I squirmed under him, trying to get away, screaming “No! Please stop! Please!” but then he...he grabbed his KA-BAR from his pants pocket and held it to my throat. I felt the sharp blade digging into my throat the entire time. When he was finished with me, he kicked me in the stomach, breaking a rib or two, before leaving me on the floor, bloodied and broken.

    I tried so hard to forget about that night, but I...I just couldn’t. I felt...dirty. I felt used. I felt...alone. I tried to cope with it, I tried coping with the constant pain that I felt. I just couldn’t handle it. I hate him. I hate him for what he’s done to me! (breaks down in tears for a few moments, then looks up from her hands with a terrifying glare.) I’M GLAD HE’S DEAD! I’M GLAD I PUT THAT SPINELESS BASTARD OUT OF HIS MISERY AND OUT OF MY LIFE! HE DESERVED TO DIE! YEAH, I KILLED HIM! AND I WOULD DO IT AGAIN! AND AGAIN! AND AGAIN!

    (she calms down, but is still shaking slightly). They put me away, ya know? Oh, but as you can tell, I’m not in prison. The jury? They came back with “insanity.” But (laughs bitterly) I knew exactly what I was doing. Every single time I jammed that knife into his chest, I was perfectly in my own mind. Poetic justice, seeing as it was the exact same knife he held to my throat while he ripped my very body and soul in half. I’m not insane. Quite the contrary. I’m very sane. I wanted revenge for what he did to me. And killing him, was the perfect way to do it. And I can’t imagine anything more sane than that.