Fictional Friday - The Broken Windshield

Fiction Friday Challenge for December 12, 2008:



Tell us the story behind this picture. Broken Windshield., originally uploaded by Rich Anderson.

"I'm sorry it had to come to this, Deb. But you didn't listen - you never listen." Stephen stood towering over the petite form of his wife, his soon to be ex-wife, the battered Louisville Slugger in his oversized hands.

"I didn't want to do this - it's all your fault!" He walked back to the trunk of the shiny new Ford Tauris, the gritty snow from the driveway crunching under his size 13 boots. He opened the trunk and pulled out a frayed blanket.

"Here ... wrap yourself in this; you'll catch your death of cold in this f***ing weather." He threw the blanket at her.

Cautiously, Deb pulled the blanket around her body, trying to make herself as small as possible. Uncontrollable shaking had overtaken her body and her lips were turning blue.

"Stephen, please ... please let me go back inside." She hated herself for crying, for showing weakness.

"Oh, you can go back inside. You can go back inside when I'm done with your boyfriend's car!" He swung the bat and smashed out another headlight. The headlight shattered into a million pieces and dropped to the snowy ground. When he had hit the windshield earlier, the glass hadn't shattered, only cracked and spread like a spider's web.

Deb managed to scramble to her feet, one foot slipping out of her houseshoe. She saw crabby Mrs. Shuster from across the street, standing in her front door. Deb had faith her nosey neighbor had called the police - after all, she had called the police on other nights when Stephen lost his temper.

Crash!

Stephen was now slamming the bat into the driver's side window.

Crash!

Now the back glass was spreading like the spider's webs on the front window.

Suddenly, Deb saw blue lights strobing in the distance. Relieved her ordeal was almost over, her cries became more hysterical. She ran to the end of the driveway, her one bare foot slipping on the snow and ice.

Police officer number one asked Deb if she was all right, while officer number two ushered her into the warmth of the police cruiser. Then both officers approached Stephen, tazers in hand.

Dropping the bat without a fight, Stephen surrendered to the officers, all the while mumbling about his f***ing wife and her f***ing boyfriend.


With Stephen handcuffed and secure in the police cruiser with officer number two, Deb was allowed to go into the house to change into warmer clothes with officer number one in tow.

"Ma'am - what set your husband off tonight?" He had his little black notebook out, pencil at the ready.

"I came home from work driving a new car," Deb sat down on the couch.

"That car in the driveway?"

"Yes, I had just picked it up from the dealership this afternoon."

"Did your boyfriend buy you the car, ma'am?" The police officer looked up at Deb's tear stained face.

"No, officer." She reached into her jeans pocket and pulled out an envelope. She handed the envelope to the office. "Read it."

He tore the envelope open and read the card inside, "To Stephen, Merry Christmas, Deb."

"The car was from me to my husband."

**Sorry about that! This got a little dark, but it's what the muse planted in my head.**