My husband was in ICU. He was in a coma and I was very quickly informed he was unlikely to wake up due to a large bleed on the brain. 

I had arranged for a friend to collect the children and have them while I stayed here. I couldn’t just leave now. It would look suspicious and I had to pretend we were a happily married couple.


As I watched endless medical staff come and go, there was a knock at the door to his room. Two suited police officers entered and introduced themselves to me. 

My heart began to race and my hairs stood to attention on my arms. I was going to crumble. I could feel it.

They questioned me and my version of events, they asked about our relationship and my husband’s prognosis. It was all very calm and informal. 

They were happy with my statement. They explained his injuries were consistent with a fall, gave their condolences and left. 


I couldn’t believe it. Was I finally going to be free? Should I even leave it to chance?


I calmly walked over to his bed, I hesitated for just a moment before turning off all the machines. I drew breath as I waited for what would happen next.

Silence.

Nothing happened.

No alarms or sirens.

He slowly slid away into the abyss without protest.


I checks for a pulse, to confirm he was gone. I switched the machines back on, which is when nurses came rushing In at the sound of beeps and alarms. But I knew it was too late. 


It was over, I wasn’t sorry. I wanted him dead. Even the children would be better humans without him in our lives. 


However the reality was, I was finally free of his torment, but had created my own. A life wondering if I’d ever be found out. Looking in the mirror at the monster he created in me. Wondering what else I was really capable of. 


The cost of freedom is seldom free, I’d given a lifetime of myself to him and now he was finally paying the price.