Pants – #JusJoJan 2018


Soon after a major event in her marriage took place in the South and she returned home, she spent a lot of time at her kitchen table. A cup of tea and her computer in front of her, she would write, then cry, then write some more. She smiled when she thought of her tea. He had always laughed at her health obsession although it helped him too. Her tea was tumeric/ginger/lemon and was a detox agent though a delicious one. It helped her focus, but it seemed nothing could stop her crying. Talking to friends and family helped.

She thought back about him and their marriage this morning. She knew, intellectually, that he had committed fraud when he married her, only interested in money. Deep in her heart that was hard to accept, so she found herself examining their marriage.

Not long before their scheduled trip south, more than two months ago now, she noticed some real behavioral changes in him. Their relationship had not been good for a while, certainly two years or more. Suddenly, he began making remarks to her, acting in peculiar ways. She asked him to talk to her. She was met with stony silence.

One afternoon, a few months before the trip, she was washing dishes. The dishwasher was beside the kitchen sink and he started to unload it, even though she had not asked him to do so. He looked up at her and said, “I’d rather be living on the streets than with you.” She was so shocked that she just stood there for a moment. Then, she turned and walked toward the bathroom, her heart pounding in her chest.

She grabbed the edge of the bathroom sink, feeling as if she would faint. She looked up at herself in the mirror, her breath coming hard, in pants.

“What am I doing with this man?” she thought. She had no idea why he had just said what he did.

She had a gut feeling.

”Someday, he’s going to hurt me.”


This post is part of Linda G. Hill’s JusJoJan 2018 Challenge. Here is the challenge and the rules




  1. what a morning’s reading i’m having! first i read a post about a sadistic litle girl, then came across two posts about women experiencing the death of their inner child, and now this poor woman bound to an ogre. not long ago, i told my mother that i was soon to attempt to work up a decent piece from a woman’s pov (not an easy task for a man)… i reckon writes like i’m reading this morning will help me get there! thanks for sharing this well-written work.


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