The door slammed, echoing down the long hall. Patricia jumped.

"Woman, you home?" he bellowed.

Patricia jumped up and scurried down the hall to meet him. She greeted him, walked with him to dining room, and made him a scotch on the rocks. She then ran to the kitchen quickly to bring out dinner.

After dinner, he headed to the shower, as usual. Patricia set his water, then gathered his pajamas and slippers for him. She waited for him to disrobe so she could take his dirty laundry. As she was heading out of the bathroom, he cleared his throat. She hesitated, and he told her to wait a minute.

"When I get out of here, we are going to 'talk' about that crap you called dinner." he stated in a voice verging on anger.

"Yes, dear, I understand." Patricia said meekly, cringing. She certainly did understand. She knew that "talk" meant using his hands, not his mouth.

"This damn drain is stopping up again!" he complained.

"Yes, dear," she responded quietly. "I will call a plumber tomorrow."

"Hand me my damn razor before you leave out. You always forget the damn razor. You're so damn stupid, it's no wonder you can't cook a decent meal. You can even screw up a scotch on the rocks. And set the radio for me, will you?"

"I'm sorry, Frank, I don't mean to be such a stupid woman," she said.

Her voice was low and apologetic, and silent tears stained her face as she held out the razor to her husband.

As she felt his fingers brush her hand to take the razor, she flinched.

"Oops, I'm sorry, honey" she said, knowing there would be repercussions for her flinching. She was never to show her fear of him. He despised that.

"Put the radio on the shelf here so I can change the station or adjust the volume if I want to. Damn, Bitch, why do think I put this damn shelf in here, anyway? You truly are one dumb cunt, aren't you?"

Patricia placed the radio carefully on the shelf. She had a little smirk on her face as she did so. Frank knew she had cleaned the bathroom today, but what he didn't know was that she had dribbled conditioner on the shelf.

As the radio slipped off the shelf and into the ankle deep water that he was standing in, his last words were "You dumb bi..." as the waves of electricity coursed through his body.

As the coroner was leaving, he suggested that the widow call a plumber to take care of that shower drain. She agreed that she would do just that.

Once the house was empty, and Frank's body was hauled away, Patricia went into the bathroom to rub lotion on her bruises, and put ointment on her cuts, knowing that once these healed she would never have to worry about doing this again.

Before she left the bathroom to head for bed, she pulled the cotton from the bathtub drain and flushed it down the toilet.