The Battered Wife Novels & Stories

Hatred burned through me—hatred for Skye, hatred for my own helplessness, hatred for dying too soon to protect my son. The beating didn't stop until Skye's dog finally barked.

They pulled out their batons and brought them down hard on my back. Lawrence leaned close to my ear and whispered, “Your wife gets incredibly sensitive at the slightest touch. Wild as hell.” As soon as he finished speaking, a guard raised his foot and kicked me hard in the head. My vision went dark from the intense pain, and a strong, metallic smell filled my nose. They hauled me up by the arms and dragged me out like a dead animal. Still not satisfied, Lawrence caught up and ground his foot into my fingers while keeping up with his curses, “With your pathetic, penniless look, you still think you deserve Ysa? Go take a p*ss and look at yourself in the mirror, eh?”

> "I'm the cold, detached wife. I'm the emotionally unavailable physician who spent more time in the trauma bays than in her own home. I was entirely too focused on my own career advancement to notice a lonely, neglected husband." Thelma looked utterly crushed. The absolute silence that followed was all the confirmation I required. I nodded slowly, the pieces of the puzzle locking into perfect alignment. The script practically wrote itself. The highly successful, unyielding female doctor; the busy, neglectful mother; the tragic, cast-aside husband who simply fell into the arms of a warm, supportive young woman. You could almost hear the whispers spreading through the manicured lawns of River

He had portrayed Jean as a pitiful woman who had suffered emotional abuse from her husband and had been deceived by my corrupt behavior. Jean had also tearfully accused me, "I had been in love with Felix for years, yet I never knew he was this kind of person. He would usually give me the silent treatment. I could even put up with his occasional physical abuse. But I never expected that he would embezzle and misappropriate company property. I absolutely cannot allow myself to be the wife of a criminal." As I watched Jean accuse me and fabricate things that I didn't do, and the immense harm I had supposedly brought to her and our family, I just let out a mocking smile.

I don't want to think about it anymore. "You still want me, I know that." Her voice echoes on my head. I did. I still want Alyssa, but I have my wife. We almost make out with her in my car, but I clean up and leave her just to buy hiking boots for me and my wife. I even must clean up myself in the bathroom before making love to her. Damn, those things keep me off from my work. "You have to fix yourself," Warren said and showed me a video of two women fighting. I glare at him. "The wife gets beaten up at this video. Mistresses are now stronger."

“Actually, what bothers you is not that I have the support of my wife, but that no one else can count on such a good battle card. Rain is a woman, yes, but being a woman doesn't make her weak and that's what bothers you. >> Because while other people's wives concentrate on giving their husband massages and taking care of the kids, my wife does a lot of other things. That's why you know that if she's around, your chances of winning are zero and that's what makes you angry. Because your shame is to be defeated by a she-wolf.

He made his way to the seats in the reception area, grateful that his quest was not going to end in futility after all. The Alatises were relaxing in their living room, supposedly watching a film, but Jide, who was just back from one of his overseas trips, appeared distracted and was not concentrating, unlike his wife, Ego, who was quite enraptured and carried away by the movie. It was a movie about domestic abuse. "Can you imagine that!" Ego spat contemptuously, startling her sleepy husband beside her awake. "What did he do to her again?" Jide asked his wife as he struggled to stay awake. He saw that the lead actor had a present in his hands but the wife was cowering fearfully in a corner o

She was grabbing her husband, hitting and biting him like a lunatic. Although Adrian felt bad, he gained confidence once he got home. How could he allow his wife to beat him up? So he retaliated. Emma got beaten up badly. Her face was bruised. Furious and aggrieved, she sat on the floor and started wailing. “You hit me, Adrian.” Adrian was not exactly in a good state either. His face and neck bore scratch marks from his wife’s long nails. He felt a burning sensation from the scratches. His wounds were bleeding slightly too.

But they neither dare touch her or lay a hand on her. If they do, they knew what would happen. “You brought this upon us!” His wife spat with hate. Natasha flared on the corner, “If I had known about it, I should have delivered you myself to that old man.” They wished her worst. Even at this moment, they remain wicked. Blinded by their contempt, but Anna was traumatize. The priest corpse was still clear o her head. His gaping mouth as he cried, while a bullet hole left enter his head.

“I know what you did. You killed your wife, and I stayed with you. I know everything, and if you think I’ll let you toss me aside like trash, you’ve got another thing coming.” Her words were a slap to my face, a sharp reminder of the secrets I’d buried so carefully. My wife. Dead by my hands. Brenda had been there, yes. She’d helped cover it up, helped me build this illusion of control. But now, she was using it against me. *That was her mistake.* My vision blurred for a moment as red-hot anger surged through me. Before I knew it, my hand shot out, and my palm connected with her cheek in a resounding slap. The sound echoed in the room, deafening in the tense silence that followed.