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She climbed into bed, eyes already fighting to stay open.  She was thinking of all the work she had accomplished this weekend and the work that still lay on her living room floor.  She was drifting off, finding that place where her body completely relaxed and dreams started to drift through her mind, when her eyes flew open and she shot up from the bed.  "It was nothing." she told herself.  Just one of the dogs walking around downstairs.  She glanced at the floor and saw both dogs sleeping soundly next to the bed.  She heard it again.  A soft bang coming from the basement, and then the quiet sliding of that broken basement window.  Before she could get her mind straight, the basement door opened with that little popping sound it makes when it sticks and the guinea pig began squeaking like crazy.  He was back again.  She grabbed the cell phone next to her, knowing full well it would do her no good.  When you're the brother of the county sheriff you are granted freedoms that a normal man wouldn't have.  That's not something many woman take into consideration on their wedding day.  The day of their divorce, though, is a different story.

Clenching the cell phone she dropped to the floor and pulled herself under the bed.  For a fleeting moment she hoped he would see the empty bed and think that she had decided to stay with her parents for the night.  Then she remembered the dogs and knew the moment he saw them he would know the truth.  She lay straining to hear where he was.  She wondered how long it had been since she had taken a breath.  It occurred to her that she probably had time to call the neighbor when she heard the top stair outside her bedroom door creak.  She flipped the phone closed again, hoping desperatley that the light would go out before he came into the room and saw the glow coming from under the bed.  The dogs collars clanked as he walked into the room and they woke to greet him.  They used to be his dogs to so any hopes of their protection had vanished the first time he come back.  She saw his feet, inches away from her as he threw back the blankets on the bed.  She watched his feet turn and heard the closet doors open and clothes being thrown about.  He grumbled something and she watched his feet walk out the bedroom door.  He had forgotten to look under the bed.  He was a mean son of a bitch, but he never was the brightest crayon in the box.  She pulled herself from under the bed and as silently as she could climbed into the back corner on the closet he had just torn apart.  She sat, waiting, sick to her stomach, knowing what was coming.  As soon as he was done tearing apart the other two bedrooms, he'd be back.  The other two rooms sat right at the top of the stairs leaving her with no way out of the house.  She considered running, knowing that if she stayed cowering in the corner of the closet, the beating was a sure thing.  Just as she summoned the courage to sprint down the stairs to the front door, she heard him coming back down the hallway.  Her only chance of escape had eluded her.  Through the crack of the closet door she watched him walk back into the room.  Even after all these years his height still gave her a feeling of overwhelming awe.  He was a man to be feared.  If only she had seen that 12 years ago.  Getting wiser she watched him bend to look under the bed, reaching around in the darkness with his immense arm.  He stood and quickly turned back toward to closet.  She squeezed her eyes as tightly as she could, covered her face with her hands, and heard the door slam open so hard that it fell backwards off its track.  She felt him wrapping her hair around his fingers and dragged her out of the closet.  She had learned long ago that screaming only made him more angry, but a moan escaped her lips as he untangled one of his hands, used the other to yank her head backwards and backhanded her on the side of her face.  She felt blood trickling from somewhere near her ear and down her neck.   She could hear hisdeep voice talking, but as she stuggled to untangle her hair from his hand, she couldn't make out the words.  Why he was here again really didn't matter, anyway.  She knew he would come back until she was dead.  She wondered if this was the time that would be the last.  

She heard herself pleading with him, knowing it would do no good.  It just showed her weakness which only fueled his anger.  She promised him anything if he would just go.  Inside she knew there was nothing she could offer him because he was goig to take whatever he wanted anyway.  And he did.  Her t-shirt tightened around her neck as he picked her up by her shirt and her hair and threw her onto the bed.  She tried to flip over and shot her foot out at him as hard and as fast as she could, but he only caught it and flipped her back over onto her stomach.  As he laid ontop of her she tried once more and threw her head backwards hoping to catch his.  Missing terribly, he grabbed the back of her head and pushed her face down into the mattress.  She laid as still as she could, praying that it would be over before she suffocated in her own bed.