**Who Needs You Anyway**
«Oliver, please, just let me go… We tried to build a life together, but it didnt work. Why torture each other? Lets just get a divorce?»
«Like hell we will,» her husband sneered. «Dream on. Youre my wife, Im your husbandthats how it is. What, arent I good enough? Or is there someone else? Answer me when Im speaking to you!»
***
Violet sat at the edge of the sofa, fingers twisting the fringe of a woollen throw. After yet another row with Oliver, she wished she could evaporatejust vanish from his life forever. Divorce was an option, of course, but she couldnt summon the nerve to file. Two years of marriage now felt like a fever dream, especially the last six months. Oliver had become a petty household tyrant, finding new reasons to snap at her every day.
It had started that morning over something smalla new face cream shed ordered online.
«Wasting money on rubbish again?» His voice cut through the quiet as she walked in with the parcel. Violet tried to explain, but Oliver wasnt listening.
«Do you ever think about us? Or just yourself? Face cream? Couldve put that money toward something usefullike helping my parents.»
«Ollie, come on. I work, I have my own money. And I do help your parents, you know that.»
«A few quid here and there! They need real help! Youre selfish, Vi. Always have been. Spending your wages on potions and rags!» His voice darkened, eyes flashing. Violet broke down in tears. Oliver, as usual, slammed the door behind him, leaving her alone with the weight of her helplessness. He always did thispushed her to the edge, then walked away.
…She remembered how it began. Hed been perfectattentive, thoughtful, loving. But something changed. Or maybe shed never seen the real Oliver.
That evening, he returned to find her at the kitchen table, nursing a cup of tea.
«Been crying again?» he asked without looking up.
«No… You justyou hurt me.»
«I hurt you? Thats rich. Maybe think before you act.»
«What am I doing wrong?» Violet whispered.
«Everything! You dont even try. I work myself ragged, and you? Half the day tapping at a keyboard, the other half lounging about!»
«I work toojust as much as you,» she protested, instantly regretting it.
«Your job? Pocket change! Im the one keeping us afloat. You should be grateful. Not once have you thanked me in all these years, though Ive earned it!»
«I *am* grateful, Ollie… But that doesnt mean you can talk to me like this.»
«Oh, how *should* I talk to you? Nothings ever good enough for you. And stop with the waterworksmakes me sick. Always playing the victim!» The disgust in his voice made her physically ache.
«I dont understand whats happening,» she breathed. «Why are you like this?»
«Do things right, dont piss me off, and well be fine.» She searched his face. No warmth, no lovejust irritation.
«Maybe we should talk?» she ventured. «See a counsellor?»
«Counsellor? *You* need a shrink. Youre the one making up problems.» After that, Violet knew she had to leave. Oliver ate in silence, then slumped in front of the telly while she dug out an old notebook and began plotting her escape.
***
The next morning, Violet left early, slipping into a café to gather her thoughts. Over coffee, she scribbled in her notebook:
*Step one: Find part-time work. Need more money. Step two: Rent a flatsmall, cheap. Step three: Pack essentials. Step four…*
«Vi?» A familiar voice startled her. Looking up, she saw her old schoolmate, Gemma.
«Gem! Fancy running into you!»
«Been ages,» Gemma smiled. «Working nearby?»
«No, just… thinking,» Violet deflected.
«Something wrong? You look rough. Feeling okay?» It had been so long since anyone asked. She hadnt told her parentsdidnt want to worry themand Oliver had slowly isolated her from friends. The kindness undid her. Tears spilled over.
«Gem, its awful. Oliverhe belittles me, picks at everything. I cant take it anymore. Im scared hell hit me next. Hes raised his hand before…» She poured out her fears while Gemma listened, silent.
«I want to leave,» Violet confessed. «But Im terrified. Where do I even start?»
«Vi, *run*. Ill help. Stay with me for a bitremember my place? And there are free helplines for women like you. Youre not alone.»
«Really?»
«Course. Youre stronger than you think.» They met again after work, and after two hours of talking, Violet felt lighter.
***
That night, Oliver waited in his armchair, telly blaring.
«Where were you?» he demanded.
«Out walking.»
«Walk a lot lately. Got a bloke on the side?» Her blood turned to ice.
«How *dare* you?»
«Wouldnt put it past you. Youre slippery.»
«Oliver, *stop*,» she said wearily.
«Stop what? Flattery? Tough.» She took a steadying breath.
«We need to talk. About us.»
«What now?»
«I want a divorce.» He gaped at her.
«*What*?»
«I cant live like this. You demean me constantly. Im miserable.»
«Youve lost it! Divorce? Whod want you? Youd *starve* without me!»
«I dont *owe* you my life. I deserve happiness.»
«Happiness? Youll be *nothing* without me. *Nothing*.» She said nothing. The decision was made.
«Im leaving tomorrow,» she said calmly.
«Like hell you are!» he roared. «Wherell you go? Youre *broke*!»
«Not your concern.»
«Ill *ruin* you!» he bellowed. «Ill make you regret being born! Ungrateful bitch! I *made* you!» Violet turned and walked to the bedroom to pack.
Oliver slept on the sofa. She lay awake, staring at the ceiling, fear and resolve warring inside her. By dawn, she was dressed, clutching her bag. He blocked the kitchen doorway, coffee in hand.
«Youre not going anywhere.»
«Its over, Ollie.»
«*I decide* when its over!» He lunged. She stumbled back, hitting the wall, then the floor. He loomed over her, fist raised. Violet shut her eyes
«Dont touch me,» she pleaded. and for the first time, her voice didnt tremble. He froze, breath ragged, eyes wild. Slowly, he lowered his hand. She stood, never breaking eye contact, and walked past him, each step steady. At the door, she paused only long enough to say, I already did. Outside, the morning air was cold and bright. She walked without looking back.
