In the devil's cauldron - A Pop-Up WeWrite Contest!
The Prompt
Written by @owasco
The Sandwich
"Ugh! The bread is soaking wet! Bread is not supposed to be soaking wet!" he snarled at me as he spits a soggy mouthful of half-chewed peanut butter sandwich into a tissue. I stood at attention next to his bed. He handed the sodden and heavy tissue to me.
He was now vegan, grain-free, nightshade-free, lectin-free, phytic acid-free, and deaf to my feeble protestations. He was not free, however, from his acutely tuned palate, which was maddeningly different from mine.
He had requested a peanut butter sandwich. I knew meeting all his new diet criteria would be a bitch, but I rose to the challenge. I had to.
I chose a very small ten dollar loaf of 'bread' and bought it. I bought some raw peanuts. I shelled the peanuts. I soaked, sprouted, and dehydrated the peanuts. After very lightly roasting them, I ground those peanuts into peanut butter. I then very carefully smeared the freshly ground peanut butter onto the somewhat normal looking bread. I made sure to get the peanut butter to the edges just like I had learned in home economics class long, long ago.
I knew how to make a proper tea sandwich.
I now spent my life trying to make this man happy. I signed up for that, didn't I? Wasn’t that my reason for being? To make this man happy?
Well, he was not happy with that sandwich.
(My continuation)
In the devil's cauldron
Realistically, he was not happy with anything, not even himself, he just found pleasure in smoking and smoked all day long, with what disgusts me! As if to suffocate me even more.
The taste of life became bitter and its gall splashed like snake venom all over the house, numbing my reserves of patience.
How does he do this to me, after all that effort to make the damn sandwich?
Their sullen ways have killed any trace of illusion. I do not resign myself to living in this prison made of fine bars of loyalty and servility. But, still, I struggle between duty and this anger that boils like underground lava and that one of these days, will bring out my demons in a relentless eruption that will reduce their genius to ashes because I know that I will not measure my reaction, smothered for years.
To live with an ogre-like this is to descend into hell every day with every reproach and complain and scream only to myself, it rebels me, making my mind wander in the devil's cauldron.
I fantasize about reproducing every insult, every dismay, and I prepare a double game of myself: one that settles down and assumes with gnarled stupidity the excesses of this good-for-nothing exalted by former glories, and another that sticks out its tongue, rubs the sandwich in its face and drowns it with its own saliva before it comes out of its mouth.
Within me, a madwoman struggles, clinging out of respect for the straitjacket worn with the wedding ring that sealed the covenant: "Till death do you part". But lately, all she hears is the word death...
He doesn't even die!
My God, deliver me from these ungodly thoughts! I must take a deep breath and put away the bad thoughts, the poor man has suffered so much!
He has suffered so much, my ass! Let him go, fuck his mother!...
Calm down! His time will come, let God sort it out!
Solve what? His insolence or your stupidity?
I don't know which torments me more if he with all that sacrifice to keep him satisfied, which I know I will never achieve, or my other self, which claims, which warns, which deviates between getting lost and leaving him forever or give him poison in his new diet
Today, as I was grinding the peanuts to make the butter, she said to me, Take advantage! And I said, Take advantage of what? Leave me alone, you're driving me crazy.
But, it is getting stronger and my lucidity is extinguished by the constant mistreatment. I think I should abandon him, leave him alone in the house. Better to end up alone cooking or cleaning toilets in an inn for a living than to keep putting up with it until the madwoman who shares my mind wins and my bones go to jail.
I knew how to make a proper tea sandwich...
Is this a life? How much longer are you going to put up with that incessant rain that is that bastard's bad tongue? You better cut out his tongue!
Oh, my God!..This is so toxic.
"Take your pill!"
Even those controls! If it wasn't for the fact that I don't know which is worse, I'd stop taking them and let my other take charge.
By Zeleira Cordero @zeleiracordero
16/02/2020
In response to @owasco in A Pop-Up WeWrite Contest!
If you're interested, find out here
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For your kind reading, THANK YOU
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So many great endings to the prompt. I really like the passive-aggressive tone in your take on the story. You show compassion at one point which I think is why women stay in this hell. 😊
Fear, resignation, attachment to the known! There are several reasons why women stay in relationships like this. Thank you, my friend, for your interesting comment. A hug! 🤗
Woo, you really painted the picture of this poor woman's daily struggle very well here! Sad to think this happens to so many!
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Yes my friend and the worst thing is that this spiral of domestic violence is repeating itself more often than it should.
I enjoyed the delving into the complex psychology of the woman, along with her horror to even look at the excesses within. It was even quite funny at times, in a macabre sort of way.
Much appreciated comment. Yes, certainly penetrating into the character's psychology reveals the ravages it leaves on the psyche, be abused by another. I'm glad you enjoyed the reading.
A very powerful stream of consciousness. I think most of us would relate to that internal debate. There is always someone around us who would trigger a dialogue like that.
Great story all together
Yeah, especially us here in Venezuela, right, buddy? We talk to ourselves, we ask ourselves and we answer ourselves about the resolution of the daily life, a level of stress similar to the woman of the story, an imposed situation that takes out of the internal boxes those who live it.
Thank you for the insightful comment, I'm glad you enjoyed it.
Well done, @zeleiracordero! I could really see how this character was becoming victimized not only by her husband but also by her own mind.
You took it! There is so much cruelty and suffering in this kind of situation, that it is not uncommon for the victim's mind to harass her as well, prompting her to defend herself and that makes her more withdrawn.
Thanks for stopping by, @jayna!
I wish I could say that I can’t identify at all with this character, but unfortunately I do understand what she’s going through, and how she becomes more hateful of herself as the abuse continues.
I think that most women go through similar situations because society favours the supremacy of the masculine gender over the feminine one and men become sheltered abusers, making women swallow more bitterness than we tolerate, turning inwards, more than monologues, dialogues because there is a sender and a receiver in the same head.
The pills!
It's the pills talking when she thinks of doing something drastic--or it's the lack of pills letting her mind run free. "It's not me, it's the pills talking," I've thought whenever a doctor prescribes something awful. (Lithium: don't go near it!)
Thought provoking story!
It seems to me that the lack of pills frees her up and that's why the husband controls her taking them. Another form of control on his part, if you will.
Ahhhh. That makes sense!
I was just imposing my own experience: I've told myself 'It's just the pills talking."
Thank you so much for your entry!
I love the good conscience and the bad conscience speaking to her and to each other. It reminds me so much of my own thoughts whenever I have tried to break a bad habit. Still, she knows the importance of taking care of herself in order to bear her duties, however hard they are. I have found that a lot of women have a fantasy of getting in their car and driving away from it all, but none of them have actually done it. I wonder what your character will do, her temptation is very strong.
I am delighted you wrote an entry. I feel honored every time someone does. Thank you.
I think she has it in her head that her life beside him, though unworthy and suffocating, is her life and I doubt that she would dare to do anything more than complain and recriminate him, in her thinking. Besides, she is medicated, one more reason to be dependent and, in a way, to feel handicapped. I don't think she'd dare give it up.
Thank you for the opportunity, it was wonderful to penetrate the character's mind to "feel" his mute suffering.
Oh! I read her taking her own pill as taking care of herself, which in a way it is. She could take a pill that helps her cope and so keeps her imprisoned. I think so far you are the only one who showed compassion for the "patient". I love that you took it that way.
Poor! She thing became a psychiatric patient from putting up with so much verbal violence without complaining.
This is timely, relevant, and insightful: she is medicated, one more reason to be dependent and, in a way, to feel handicapped. I don't think she'd dare give it up. This is more than a story; it's a case study. Bravo!
I think the major difference in the story development is between those who decided that killing the man isn't such a big thing, especially since he deserves it and only concern with not being caught, and those who portray a person who is torn between her desire to break away from the torment and her guilty consciousness.
All in all, it was an interesting assignment. Thanks to @owasco we all find out something new about ourselves and about each other.
You're right. In any case, habit and passive submission are strong, beyond the explosion and action.
Yeah, @owasco did well with that first part, leaving a good margin for different sequels.
I like how you displayed two passionate sides of her personality that were tearing her apart.
Yes, it seems to me that when a submissive person is abused, she suffers for two reasons, one for the perpetrator and one for her own recrimination in silencing what she wants to scream.
Dark inner thoughts rattling around randomly making sense in some crazy kind of way, life sure is strange never easy.
Thoroughly enjoyed how you have taken the writings of @owasco turning it into an intriguing reply, Oh that peanut butter!
!tip
I'm glad you enjoyed it.
An awesome continuation! I feel even more sorry for her in your story, as she must also suffer the turmoil within herself, another product of the relationship.
Exactly! Her imbalance has to do with what she faces every day. Poor woman!