When he arrived home from work he could always excepted to find three things to his satisfaction; first that his home would be clean and tidy, second that his dinner would be almost ready, and third that his wife would be in the bedroom ready to pleasure him before dinner. His lovely wife had always had things just so for him, he did not need to ask her nor did he need threaten her, she was simply a woman who liked to please her husband. She never raised her voice in augment with him nor expressed any views that contradicted his. She was perfect and as boring as hell.
He would arrive home and find every thing just so; he would go upstairs and fuck the little woman, who would show no emotion about it, who would then head down stairs to finish getting dinner ready while he took a shower as if nothing had happened. They would then eat dinner together at the table and then watch some television together before she would head off to bed and to sleep. He had spent many hours down stairs alone, contemplating his life and how sick of it he was, and just what he was going to do to change it.
But everything changed when he walked into the house one afternoon the place look like a bomb had hit it. The lounge room had been torn apart as if someone had been looking for something, the couch was ripped apart. The television was on blaring at its top volume and not quiet on station and there was a small amount of blood on the floor. He walked over to the television and turned it off, he shown no emotion that his house had been torn apart, he moved on into the dinning room and found all the shelves had been gone through and the glassware broken, again there was a small amount of blood by the door, he stepped over it and headed up stairs. He moved along the hall and checked the study to find that it too had been torn apart and the drawers all opened. The drawer the he kept locked lay broken on the floor besides his chair. The safe was open and everything inside was gone. He then headed up stairs and checked each room to seeing the same damage and destruction in each room. He paused for a moment before opening the master bed room door. When he opened it he should have been both shocked and angered by what he saw. On the floor in the middle of the room was the beaten and broken body of his wife, it looked like she had tried to fight off who ever had invade his home and had come out the worse for it.
He grabbed the phone and called 911 and asked for and ambulance, it arrived at the same time as the police. His home had been robbed and his wife badly beaten.
It took only days for her to recover from the physical beating she had taken, but the doctors had warned him that she may not recover from the emotional scars for a long time. She spoke very little to him and refused to meet his eye, the only thing that she had said was that she would not go back to that house. He sold it while she was in hospital and bought a small property just out side of of a small town miles from the city. He had all the security money could buy installed and had repainted and decorated the house to please him self, installing a few extra devices he had always wanted. It was quiet out here and no one around for miles; it was just the sort of place they needed to make a change in their lives.
