She walked down the hallway towards the chair next to the telephone. With each step, her high-heels clacked onto the hard cement flooring. She had always been a good actress, but upon careful observation, you could see her hands shaking, teeth chattering and cold sweat building up on her forehead. Continuing her "calm" nature, she sat in the chair and unlatched the phone to the left of her.
"About fuckin' time for you to visit me," said her husband.
"I've been real busy with the kid and all," she tried to not show any weakness as she lied through her teeth.
"Bullshit, we both know quite well that you aren't raising that child, it's that nanny. What's her name?" He scratched his hairless chin, which he had shaven that morning to prepare for the visit. "Mirabelle, right?"
"Michelle," It took some courage to correct him, but even more to keep speaking, "And I can't do these visits anymore, this will be the last time I'll see you, ok?" Her voice cracked as she finished her sentence.
She had never seen him so shocked in his life. "What the hell are you talkin' about! What do you mean you can't fuckin' do it?" He held up a shield of anger, hiding the sadness inside of him.
"Do you even know the hell you put me through? I can't handle this s*** anymore!" Tears began to well up in her eyes as her voice began to rise in volume.
"Hell I put you through? You're the one who is about to fuckin' abandon me here! What are you going to say when my son, my fuckin' son, looks you damn straight in the eyes and asks you, where's my dad? I bet when you tell him the truth he'll learn to hate you, the one who let his dad rot in a crumby cell for the last of his waking days. God, he'll fuckin' despise you." He tried to keep his strong demeanor but it was evident that his shield was withering away. "Wow, does the word marriage mean anything to you? Till death do we part, what a goddam cruel world." His strength had completely eroded away at this point, leaving nothing but a weak core on display for the world.
"Wanna hear the funny thing?" tears rolled down her cheeks as she spoke in a quiet voice, "I really did love you, god, I still love you. Even after everything you put me through, the yelling, the fighting, the times you arrived home late at night so drunk I could set fire to your blood and the icing on the cake: the beatings, I still loved you. I treated you like a king and you treated me like s***, like I was some trophy to hang on your goddam wall and to show off to "the guys". I know and I bet you know, deep under that thick ego of yours, that the best world for our son would be a world without you. That is why I am taking my life and my son's life into my own hands; that is why I choose to never lay an eye on your face for the rest of my life." Although her face was still damp from tears, she felt a certain strength building up inside of her from attacking the man who had been her aggressor for years.
"Honey, I'm so sorry. I love you. Please don’t do this," He was a complete mess, sobbing like a child who did not get his way.
"I'll mail you the papers to officially end this in a month's time. I…"
"Baby, I love you," He interrupted. His sobs began to intensify.
"I expect that you will sign them, thank you and good bye." She hung the phone back onto its latch and stood up.
As she walked back down the long hallway she could hear him banging on the walls yelling, "I love you!" like a madman. She didn't look back at him; he didn't deserve that ego-boost. She heard the officers that were once behind him hit him with their batons to control his disorderly behavior. Of course she did not wish this pain upon him, but she knew she had to just keep walking. She thanked the man at the gate that had allowed for this final visit to occur and walked out of the building. The walk across the parking lot to her car seemed much longer than she remembered; she was exhausted.

The man whose wife had just left him sat alone in a cold metal room. He was sentenced to forty-eight hours in solitary confinement for punching one of the pigs that tried to restrain him when he was trying to get his b**** of a wife's attention. He knew the pig deserved it, but the pig's herd thought otherwise. God, he loved that woman. She acted like he didn't, but he really did. He remembered her beautiful hair that she would always elaborately put up before they left the house. Her smile, the most perfect smile that was filled with perfectly white and straight teeth. She was missing one tooth, but no one knew about it as it was out of view when she smiled. The only reason he knew about the tooth was because he was the one who caused its removal.
He really didn't mean to hurt her all those times; he was usually just drunk and angry about something that had happened at work that day and he took it out on her. He didn't like to hit her, to slam her against the wall, but he just needed to do it. He was like a kettle on the stove. He needed to release the raging steam inside of him or he would explode and kill himself or something the like. That's how his father died and he couldn't let himself go out like that coward.
The cell seemed to almost become colder as he began to shiver violently. It was times like this in which he missed his wife. She would always say, "It's okay honey, I still love you." Those words would always make him feel so warm and happy inside. He needed this warmth right now but he knew, when he saw her again he would only get a cold chill. But that's okay; she can always learn to give him that warmth of love that he desires, maybe even his son can, too. "God, I love that woman."

She felt mixed emotions on the drive home that day. She had just abandoned the man who had been tormenting her for her entire adult life, living in a hellhole, but she also abandoned the man who she dreamt of spending the rest of her life with since her junior year in college. For every ounce of hate that she had towards him, she had an equal amount of love and affection. She didn't know why she loved him so, if anything he was the monster who would eat away at her self esteem, leaving nothing but a mindless slave that would execute every task given to her. She felt chained to him, like she could not live without him. After his arrest, it gave her a feeling of freedom that she had not felt in years and she wanted this feeling for her son more than she wanted him to have a father.
She pulled up into her driveway and entered her home. She dug through a drawer in her bedroom and pulled out a picture of her, three months pregnant. With her stood the man who once was her husband. She began to cry; at that time, she had hopes of having a happy family with a house on the hill. She now envies those dreams.
She used her sleeve to wipe off her tears and walked towards the other side of the room and lit the fireplace. In a final act of letting go, she threw the picture, frame and all, into the flames. She watched as the picture distorted and then slowly turned to ash.
After all remnants of the picture had melted to nothing more than ash, she walked to her room and lay on her bed. She spread her arms and smiled; she was free.