I tried to take Gina’s advice and just be patient with the situation, but I can’t take it anymore. Every time I looked at Percy it made me ill. He looked bad - real bad - and he smelled ten times worse. He’d gotten so weak now that he had absolutely no control over his body. His lips were blistered and pus filled. The abrasions on his cheeks from the strap had pretty much calloused over. He’s sleeping a lot more; too weak to keep his eyes open. But it never fails; something startles him in his sleep. Sometimes it’s me. One time I was watching him and waited until he closed his eyes. I walked up on him, leaned over and yelled BOO in his ear. That was the funniest thing ever! Percy’s eyes flew open and he screamed like a little girl. I laughed so hard I thought I was going to pee on myself. It was so funny. Hell, he deserved it for the many times he scared the living shit out of me. His reaction did something for me. It made me feel good in a sick sort of way. But whatever…it was my time to get back at him.
And I did it a few more times. I cut between each one of his toes with a razor. I even played Russian roulette. He didn’t know I knew he had a gun in the house. I shook him and made sure he was awake. When his eyes opened all he could see was the barrel of the gun pointed at his head. I made him watch me spin the cylinder with one bullet in the chamber. He tried to protest but the leather strap and gag kept his pitiful protests muffled. His eyes got as wide as silver dollars as I lowered the 357 magnum toward his temple. I kept my eyes on him, never allowing my gaze to flinch even as I pulled the trigger once…and then once more. With every click of the cocked and loaded pistol, he begged me to spare his life. I didn’t need to hear the words clearly to understand exactly what his eyes were saying. His body tensed and flinched with the first click and his heart raced with the second. Percy started to breathe heavier – one solitary tear sliding down his dusty face. All I could do was smile. He was genuinely scared, and I was the one who scared him. Before I left him, I blew on the tip of the barrel like I had seen so many times in the western movies. I couldn’t help it. It was the perfect finale.
Was it the end I had scripted for him? No, but had the bullet discharged into his pathetic skull I don’t know that I would have cared. I had already lost everything that ever mattered to me. Getting caught and losing my life to incarceration was an exchange I was willing to accept. At least then I would be totally free from Percy. Even locked up, I would still be free. I would like to say that I am ashamed to admit what I’ve done, but in reality I’m not. I am starting to get a sense for how Percy must have felt throughout the course of our relationship. There’s something about having unrelenting control over a person that makes you feel powerful. I feel powerful bending his will to mine, making him do what I want him to do and causing him unrepentant pain. I like feeling this way.
I checked on him a little earlier today; some 12 hours after the little gun situation. He was very, very quiet and extremely still. I paused trying to see if his hollowing chest would rise and fall; a tell-tale sign that he was still alive. At first I didn’t see anything so I moved a little closer and grabbed his wrist to see if I could feel his pulse. I was hoping against hope he was dead, but I wasn’t sure. I had to still myself and quiet my own breathing to see if I could detect his pulse. Maybe the gun incident gave him a heart attack? His wrist was cold and clammy, but unfortunately I did feel a faint pulse. Damn, that would have been too easy…
My patience was wearing thin. I think we are going to have to do something different. Starving him to death was a good idea, but it was taking too long for me. I know what I read about not being able to live past a few days without water, but Percy’s stubborn ass was still holding on. It’s kind of funny… I thought my anger would have subsided by now, but it hasn’t. I am still just as angry as I was when I came home from the hospital. My physical injuries have pretty much healed. I am still spotting a little bit from losing my baby. Other than that, I am okay. Mentally and psychologically though, this thing is still wearing on me. I haven’t been sleeping. I’m barely eating and I feel claustrophobic. It’s just too much. I need to speak to Gina right now and tell her that we need another plan ‘cause this ain’t working for me no more. Besides, I would be doing Percy a favor by putting him out of his misery…it’s the least I can do…