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It was a warm May evening. At the Bar under the Big hill , it was just after closing time. The last patrons stumbled out of the door (under the influence of the few beers they had recently drunk), leaving me alone.
To introduce myself, my name is Veronica, I'm an average twenty-four-year-old woman, and I've been working at this bar since I was sixteen. It's not a difficult job, just wiping tables, washing dishes, and occasionally refilling someone's beer. Anyway, back to what happened.
I was working until closing time, which was around 2:30 AM. By then, it was just me and Larry (the bar owner), but even he left shortly after closing. I only had to clean up a few tables, wash the dishes, and I could go home too. I was just bending down behind the bar to put glasses on the shelf when the doorbell rang.
"We're closed!" I called out as I stood up.
As I looked to see who had come, the glass I was holding slipped from my hand and shattered. It fell to pieces and cut my leg.
"Damn it," I cursed.
Standing in the doorway was my ex. He looked exactly as I remembered him. He was about 175 centimeters tall (so nothing special), with long blond hair falling into his face, and his dark blue eyes piercing me with his gaze. But there was something else. He was under the influence (I could tell by the way he looked at me, how he leaned on the door frame to stand up straight, years of observation and practice, you know). He also seemed like he wanted to argue.
"Damn it," I repeated, "What do you want?"
"What do I want?!" he repeated my question and then started laughing loudly, "I just came by."
I knew that laugh. That disgusting, maniacal, ear-piercing sound boded no good. I knew it wouldn't lead to anything good, but I continued.
"Look, we're closed, so if you don't leave right now, I'll call the police."
In an instant, his expression changed from amused to annoyed.
"Listen, girl ," he gritted through his teeth, "No one tells me what to do!" he growled and took two (stumbling) steps towards me.
I quickly assessed the situation, ran to the phone, and tried to dial the police number. But he was faster. He caught up to me (or rather stumbled) and snatched the phone from my hand, ripping the cord out, rendering it literally unusable in 5 seconds . I couldn't call, fine, so I'll run out onto the street and call for help. I ran, and when I was halfway to the door, he pulled me back by my apron.
"Let me go!" I struggled and writhed, trying to break free, but it was no use.
He dragged me back to the bar counter and said, "It seems we have some unfinished business, girl ," then he hit me forcefully in the head. I flew for a moment until I hit the wall and collapsed. I slammed into the wall and my vision blurred for a moment. Tears began to flow sharply from my left eye, but I couldn't open it. Fortunately, I could still see with the other one.
"There's nothing to discuss!" I snapped.
"Oh, Roni, Roni," he sighed, and it sounded as if it was difficult for him to speak. I trembled at the way my name sounded from his lips, it had been a long time since anyone called me like that, only he used to do that.
"When will you..." his voice slowly turned into a scream, "realize I'M ALWAYS RIGHT!" he yelled so loudly that my eardrums almost burst, and then he hit me again in the head. He continued screaming.
"After you left me, I hit rock bottom. I started drinking and taking all sorts of crap just to forget about you. As you can see, it didn't help." He smirked, and I felt a thin trickle of blood running down my forehead. My ears were ringing, and I could hardly hear him. But it seemed he didn't notice as he continued.
"My company went bankrupt, and I almost lost all my money. I argued with my parents until they kicked me out of the house. I ended up in a rental with instant soups for every meal."
His eyes flashed, and he had that strange vengeful look again.
"But you..." he sighed, "You're doing great," he waved his hand in a 'look around' gesture and pointed to the bar.
"You're making good money, you have a place to live, food to eat...everything," his voice seemed to break for a moment. I even thought I saw tears in his eyes.
"I had everything too," he continued, "But you," he pointed accusingly at me, "You took it all away from me, and now...NOW YOU'LL PAY FOR IT!"
I looked at him in horror. Only now did I begin to realize what the hell was really going on here. This maniac wants to kill me! He wants to kill me here, at my job, after five months since we last saw each other... five months since that court... I thought it would be okay, but evidently, I was wrong.
His smile was now so wide that it resembled a twisted grin. He reached for the counter and pulled out a large kitchen knife from the dish rack. Damn it.
"AND NOW YOU'LL PAY FOR EVERYTHING!" he repeated and started laughing so loudly that he began to cough. He coughed so much that his face slowly turned from pale to darker red.
-This is my chance - it flashed through my mind. I quickly got up and before he could notice, I managed to pick up a large shard from the broken glass from the ground. But he noticed me.
"Veronica, damn it!" he yelled still in a fit of coughing. He swung the knife at me. I dodged, but he didn't give up.
"Veronica, I'll-"
I didn't wait for anything. I firmly grasped the shard and thrust it directly into his chest. He screamed in pain, and the knife fell from his hand. I pushed it deeper and began to twist it from side to side, like unlocking a door. Blood immediately began to spurt from the wound, staining my once snow-white apron red. To make sure he wouldn't get up again, I quickly pulled out the shard. He lost his balance. As he was falling to the ground, for a moment through all that anger and hatred, I saw the face of that young boy I fell in love with years ago. But now I knew he had changed, for the worse. Yet my heart clenched, and a wave of sadness and nostalgia flooded over me. He landed on the ground with a loud thud and a quiet groan as the remaining glass shards on the floor buried into his back. I didn't wait a moment and stumbled to the door. I quickly opened it and gulped in the cold summer air. It wasn't until several minutes later that I realized my heart was pounding loudly and blood was still flowing from my head. Somehow, the adrenaline had worn off, and I began to tremble and collapsed to the ground.
You can probably guess how it all ended. I woke up in the hospital with my head bandaged and four policemen around the bed. They asked what the hell had happened at that damned bar. I recounted everything to them with icy calm. I didn't exaggerate or downplay anything; I told them uncensored how it all went. It surprised me too. I thought they'd send me to prison, but instead, they sent me here.
I'm writing this story from the mental hospital where they transferred me after I had a nervous breakdown at the hospital. I'm not sharing this to seek pity or to scare you, but rather to urge you to think twice, no, at least ten times, about who you let into your life. I was truly lucky that night. May this story serve as a warning to everyone, and if someone in your life screams a red flag , run, and don't look back!