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When Amy realized her husband was going to kill her, the most horrifying thing about it was the fact that she could do nothing to stop him.
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“Just open your stupid mouth,” Bill said, obviously frustrated.
Amy felt the cold, wet cereal hit her lips and she opened her mouth as far as she could, which was barely enough to get a taste. The cereal oozed onto her chin and Bill harshly scooped it off with the spoon. It was humiliating but she didn’t have a choice.
She was trapped in her own body like an animal. Amy remembered bits and pieces of the accident but had no concept of how long ago it had happened. It took awhile but she finally learned to accept the life she’d been spared. Not that she didn’t constantly pray for a miracle. A miracle was at the top of her list every day.
Amy dreamed of walking again instead of being confined to her wheelchair, slouched over and unable to hold up her head for more than a moment at a time. She longed be normal, to pull her two daughters close, hold them tight and never let them go. Amy knew how difficult it must be for them to see her in that state. Their visits were always filled with emotion, confusion and lots of tears.
She desired her husband more than ever and wished that just once more he would touch his lips to hers. It seemed like forever since he’d kissed her at all, probably repulsed at the thought of getting her slobber on his mouth. Amy remembered when he used to be gentle and loving with her. But lately it seemed to be too much for him. He’d become irritable and detatched.
Everyone thought she was practically brain dead; a vegetable. They talked about her like she wasn’t there. And although she could hear them loud and clear, her brain wouldn’t allow her mouth to tell them. When she tried, what came out were deep, pitiful, moaning sounds that caused them to look away, embarrassed, unsure of how to respond to her cries.
Bill was just dipping the spoon into the cereal again when music started playing from his chest. Startled, Amy’s head jerked involuntarily then fell forward again. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bill reach into his shirt pocket and pull out his cell phone. He stood and walked away, his back to her.
“Hey Babe,” he said quietly, yet loud enough for Amy to hear. “Nah. She doesn’t understand anyway.”
Doesn’t understand? I understand every word you’re saying, Bill!
“I’m fine,” he was saying. “Don’t worry about me. The doctor will be here at nine tomorrow morning. The sooner we get this over with, the easier it will be to move on with our lives. The girls and I can’t live in limbo like this forever.”
Get this over with? Easier to move on? What are you talking about?
Bill shot a brief look in her direction. He lowered his voice even more and Amy strained to hear.
“All I can say is thank God for that judge. He was smart enough to see that this is for the best. One shot and it’ll be over. Totally painless - like putting a dog to sleep.”
The shock of his statement was overwhelming. You're going to kill me? Put me “to sleep” so your life will be easier? What about my life?
Everything in her wanted to jump out of her chair and wrap her hands around her husband’s throat. But despite her efforts, her legs and arms remained limp.
There were days she actually longed for death - to be free again in her Savior's arms. But the thought of not being around to see her girls grow up was unimaginable. And to think she was such a burden on her husband that he wanted her dead... Did Bill honestly think he could play God by choosing when to end her life?
So Amy did the only thing she could: she wept. She wept for the man her husband had become. She wept for her girls. She wept for the life she was going to lose.
And her silent cries turned into deep, pitiful moans that echoed through the hospital halls.
She watched, helplessly, as Bill shot her a disgusted look and walked out, leaving Amy alone with the knowledge that tomorrow would be the end of the life she was spared.
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