Chapter 2 Part 2

After getting dressed into something more comfortable, I jumped to my feet and quickly wiped away the dampness from my lashes. Then, I walked through the dark apartment void of electricity.

How could someone be so heartless and do this to another human being? What did I do to deserve this kind of treatment? Had I been too nice? Was I too forgiving? Was I not pretty enough? Was I so in love that I forgot about my well-being? Maybe I had, and l was taken for granted. But you can push a person only so far before they break! I can't let myself be pushed around anymore!" So why am I sitting around taking this lack of love and awful treatment as if I couldn't do better for myself? I'm smart, and I know love doesn't feel like this. So why am I subjecting myself to this kind of constant pain? Fool me once. Shame on you. Fool me twice. Shame on me! And I'm not nobody's, fool!"

I told myself as I went into the kitchen pantry. I pulled out several large trash bags. Then, I marched back into the bedroom.

Teeth clenched, battling tears and anger, I looked at his clothes and snatched them off the hangers, shirts, name-brand jeans, jackets, ties, whatever my hands could grab. I threw an armload of shirts, suits, jeans, underwear, and t-shirts. Jamming the material into the large trash bags I had gotten from the kitchen pantry. Uncaring of wrinkles and the cost of the clothes, I added more, pushing the material from the tops of the bags, stuffing them without even bothering to close them. The large bags I struggled to drag the to the front door. Finally, I opened the door and tossed them out into the hallway. I dragged out furniture and all his appliances, the toaster, blender, and coffee maker, and put them out the front door. Then I dragged the mattress off the bed: all its covers, two chairs, and a lamp. I was shoving all out the Front door into the hallway. Clothes and shoes, deodorant and underwear, CD players and speakers were in trash bags, and any other items I could find that belonged to him! I tossed them out of the apartment into the hallway. Then picked up my cell and called a company called Best Locksmith. "Please, it's an emergency! But, Sir, can you come sooner than an hour?" "Uhm, it's already after ten at night. I'm the only one on this route. I have two more stops ahead of you." "Look! I'll pay you $50.00 extra if you come to me. First, this is urgent. Please." "Alright, I'll be there in 20 to 25 minutes." "Thank you, thank you." I looked at the clock, realizing I didn't have much time to drag the rest of the things out of the apartment and simultaneously push his favorite chair out the door. I could not believe who had opened their door: Ms. Kate, the nosy neighbor in the building. I know she thought I was crazy, mumbling to myself. "What are you staring at? Please go into your apartment and mind your business." Ms. Kate couldn't just ignore the disaster out in the hallway. "Sugar, is everything alright?" "Yes, ma'am, everything is fine. Just doing some extensive cleaning." I smile, closing the door and standing in front of it. "Yes, ma'am, I understand. All these items will be gone by morning."

"You must be getting a lot of new furniture?" "Yes, I'm giving a lot of this to the VA charity." "Okay, you take care, Ms. Martin." "You to Ms. Kate." I quickly closed the door behind me and waited. I sat on the sofa, biting my fingernail and looking at the clock. I even paid extra for the Locksmith to come sooner, and 20 minutes couldn't come fast enough. When the locksmith gentleman showed up and stepped over all the stuff, he saw clothes and shoes spilling out of the bag in the hallway. "Wow! What happened here," he asked himself as he hesitantly knocked on the door. At the sound of the knock on my door, I hurried to my feet, wiping away a run-way tear. I couldn't bear anyone seeing the tears, fears, or hurt I felt. "Who is it?" I asked cautiously, with my nerves on edge because I had never done anything like this before. "Henry, from Best Locksmith, ma'am." He replied. When I opened the door, I said, "Good evening, Sir. Thank God you're here. It's this lock and this one I want to change." The man put his toolbox down. His eyes swept over the dark empty room. He could see I was out of sorts and a bit jittery. "How long is this going to take, Sir?" I asked him nervously. "Not very long, about ten minutes for each door." "Mr. Henry, could you get this done a little faster? Please." "I'll try." All kinds of thoughts ran through the man's mind. What if some man shows up and does something wild like starts shooting? It is New York, and I don't live in the best area. I paced back and forward-looking out the window several times. The locksmith man finished in precisely twenty minutes. "I'm done, ma'am." I jumped a little as he spoke, getting my attention. "Oh, okay. How much?" "$250.00, ma'am." I handed him the money; I knew he could tell how my hands were trembling that something was wrong. "Are you going to be okay, Miss?" Henry decided to ask, hoping I would say yes. "Yes, thank you. I'll be okay." "Here are your keys. Have a good evening, Ma'am. Stay safe." I close the door quickly. I ran to the kitchen drawer and grabbed a piece of white paper off the table. Finally, I take a black Sharpie, write a stinging message in large letters, and put it on the front door. Now all I could do was wait, so I lay on the sofa, exhausted. My eyes couldn't stay open. The next time I woke up, it was a loud banging noise at the front door. I grabbed the only heavy object I had found earlier in the kitchen that I had laid by the sofa as I slept. I grabbed the hammer and looked at the time. I sighed in relief as I prepared and waited for this moment. It was the moment that would end my turmoil. I walked into the living room, ready to dial 911. Instead, I was startled by another loud bang! So loud I thought the door might come crashing in! Out of fear, I dropped the phone. My heart was racing. Gripping the hammer as I collected my nerves, ready to swing!