The Tree of Knowledge

We pull up in front of the house around sunset.

I wish I could say I wasn’t scared. I wanted to walk through that door like a bad ass. Like he couldn’t hurt me anymore. But I’m so scared. I just don’t want him to hurt me anymore.

Jace promised he wouldn’t let anyone hurt me ever again.

He kissed away my bruises and my scars and he promised me there wouldn’t be any more.

And then he turned me in.

The man kills the engine.

Maybe if Jace can’t keep his promise, I can keep it for him.

The man opens the passenger door and starts to untie the bonds on my ankles.

I can be brave.

He helps me out of the car and unlocks the handcuffs.

I can be strong.

He leads me up the sidewalk. The front door opens. Ryan is standing in the doorway.

No one can hurt me ever again. I won’t let them.

Ryan pays the man and shuts the door. It looked like quite a lot of cash.

“How much did I set you back?” I ask him casually.

“I sold my Mercedes.” He says. “The one you scratched.”

I can see it, his rage. Bubbling below the surface. Burning in his eyes.

And it doesn’t scare me anymore.

I’ll be dead by tomorrow. I’m practically dead already.

And he can never hurt me ever again.

“You stole from me.” He says slowly. “You took my car, just to smash it. You took my gun. You threatened my wife. You embarrassed me. And you spread you legs for that nigger boy like a little whore.”

I reach my hand up and backhand him across the face as hard as I can manage. My ring leaves a deep, red scratch across his face. Blood runs down from it in streaks. He puts his hand to his face, then brings it away again, staring dumbfounded at the blood like he can’t quite figure out how it got there.

“Don’t ever call him that again.” I tell him.

Now he manages to recover from his shock. He lunges at me.

“YOU BITCH! YOU FUCKING CUNT!”

I jump away from his reaching hands, moving behind the coffee table. He flips the table over and out of his path, the wooden legs snapping and the glass shattering on the floor. He grabs me by the hair and throws me to the ground, the broken glass pressing into my face. He moves to kick me, but I grab his other ankle and pull as hard as I can, sending him sprawling on to the glass-covered carpet next to me. I grab a large shard. It cuts deep into my palm as I grip it and I stab it into the meat of his calf. He screams in pain.

Ryan is a foot taller and at least a hundred pounds heavier than me, but he’s not used to hitting someone who’s hitting back.

As I try to scramble to my feet, he sits up and back hands me across the face. I fly backwards and land painfully on the hearth of the brick fireplace, my head smacking against the stone and my hand and my long hair landing in the flames. I withdraw my singed hand with a yelp as the rotted, sweet smell of burning hair fills my nostrils.

I try very hard not to think about how by tomorrow that’s all I will ever feel again. This acrid smell the only thing I’ll ever smell. I don’t have time to ponder what Hell is going to be like, because right now, I have to fight for my life.

I push myself up from the ground, grabbing the fireplace poker as I rise. I swing it at Ryan. This time it’s his turn to back up. I rush at him with it, yelling at the top of my lungs. As Ryan backs away, he trips over the couch and falls to the ground. I drive the point of the fireplace poker into his fat stomach. It penetrates a few inches.

Ryan grabs it with both hands and pulls it out, swearing. He hits me with it, sending me crashing back on to the floor face first. Again and again he brings it down across my back, hard enough to rip first through the cheep fabric of my dress and then through my skin.

He lets the poker clatter to the floor and flips me over. Straddling me, his hands wrap around my throat. I fight and claw at them as hard as I can, but it’s no good. My vision is starting to gray around the edges.

“I hope you enjoy Hell you goddam whore!” he spits into my face.

There’s a gasp of surprise. His grip loosens and I suck in precious air through my bruised throat.

It was Rebecca. Rebecca has been standing on the stairs watching the whole time. She’s crying.

“Oh Ryan… Ryan, darling, why did you do that?’

Ryan has just realized what he said.

“I…I didn’t…No! It just slipped out! ...I… I didn’t mean…

Rebecca sobs.

“This is her fault!” Ryan yells, pointing down at my crumpled form. “If she hadn’t made me so mad I would have never… I never…”

Rebecca places a hand on his face. She kisses him.

“I know, darling. I know. She was like Eve, offering the fruit to Adam in the Garden of Eden. It’s mankind’s greatest flaw. Women are weak, and men have a weakness for women.”

She kisses him again and takes his hands in hers.

They close their eyes. I pull myself slowly to my feet. They don’t even care what I’m doing now. I’ve been forgotten.

“Dear Lord,” Rebecca says. “Please forgive my husband for saying your name in vain. He didn’t mean to.”

“I didn’t.” Ryan agrees, nodding. “God, I am so sorry. Please forgive me.”

“Amen.” Rebecca says.

“Amen.” Ryan echoes.

Rebecca kisses him again, tears streaming down her face.

“Okay.” She says. “You just sit down and rest now. I’m going to go call the Judges. I’m sure it’s not too late to add you to the list for tomorrow. And then we’ll see about dressing these cuts.”

“What?” Ryan says. “No… no you can’t call them.”

“Ryan, darling, you know I have to.” Rebecca says, already heading for the kitchen phone.

“Don’t worry.” she says. “It’s going to be alright. This time tomorrow you’ll be with Jesus in his heavenly kingdom.”

She starts to dial the phone.

“No…” Ryan says. Then, more firmly, “NO. Rebecca, put the phone down.”

“Ryan, don’t do this.” Rebecca says sadly. She’s still dialing. Ryan marches into the kitchen.

“Rebecca, as your husband, I forbid you to call them.”

She sighs and hangs up the phone.

“Darling, it doesn’t work like that.” She says this slowly, as if explaining it to a child. “Of course I will happily submit to my husband in all things, unless it violates God’s law. You’re just a man, darling. Men are flawed. Compared to Jesus Christ you’re nothing. So I’m going to call the Judges now, and you should pray for forgiveness for trying to tell me not to. I’ll pray with you when I’m done.”

She picks up the phone again.

“I said NO!” Ryan yells, ripping her away from the phone.

“But God says-”

“I DON’T CARE WHAT GOD SAYS!” Ryan screams, wrapping his hands around her throat. “I DON’T CARE ABOUT ANY OF IT! I JUST WANTED MY WIFE TO DO WHAT I WANTED FOR A CHANGE!”

She’s choking to death, her bugged out eyes staring into mine over Ryan’s shoulder.

I pick up the blood splattered fireplace poker off the floor.

“Hey Ryan!” I yell.

He lets go of Rebecca and spins around. I jam the poker into his throat. Blood gushes out. He falls to his knees in front of me, sputtering as he drowns in his own blood.

“I’ll see you in Hell.” I promise him, and he falls face forward at my feet.

“Nooooo!” Rebecca cries out piteously. She pulls his body into her lap, sobbing.

“Why did you do that?’ she demands of me.

“He was going to kill you.”

“But I would have gone to Heaven.” she protests. “And he would have had time to think, and pray about it, and ask for forgiveness for what he did. Then he would have gone to Heaven too. But now he’ll never have that chance! You sent him to Hell.”

She continues to sob over him, wailing. I walk out of the room.

“Kit!” she calls back at me. “Kit, I’m calling the police!”

“Go ahead!” I tell her.

I walk into the living room, my boots crunching on the broken glass. I pick up Ryan’s cell phone off the sofa table, the table he pushed my head into to punish me for throwing up during the execution, and slip it into my pocket.

He can’t hurt me anymore.

I walk up the stairs and into Little Bird’s room. She’s asleep in her crib. How she managed to sleep through all that, I’ll never know. She’s gotten so much bigger. I lean into the crib and lightly kiss her brow.

“Bye bye Little Bird.” I tell her.

I climb out her window and on to the roof, just like I’ve done a hundred times before. The maneuver is more challenging in hiking boots but by no means impossible. I walk to the peak of the roof and climb on top to the brick chimney, the very highest point. I sit there, overlooking the driveway, and I wait.

It starts to rain. It washes over my skin, cleansing me. My blood and Ryan’s runs off of me, streaking down the rooftop in pink, squiggly lines.

I can hear them now. The sirens. Getting closer. Coming to take me away.

I pull out Ryan’s cell phone. I dial the number from memory. Two rings. Three. Four. And I worry for a moment that he’s not going to pick up.

“Hello?” he answers of the fifth ring.

“Hello Jace.” I say.

“Kit! Is that really you? You’re alive!”

The squad cars pull into the drive way. Three of them. Lights flashing in my eyes.

“Not for much longer.” I tell him.

I stand up. The cops are out of their cars. Pointing guns up at me. Shouting orders.

“Jace, I need to tell you something.” I say, stepping closer to the edge.

“What is it, Kit?”

I feel so perfectly calm. I am at peace.

“I just wanted to tell you that I love you. I love you so much. I always have. And I don’t regret a thing.”

And I jump from the edge, that familiar rush of falling filling me up as I plummet to the pavement below.