Squeezed 'Til The Last Drop

Brazzers

Jennifer White, Victor Ray Pic(s)

The sun bled its final, brilliant hues of orange and purple over the quiet suburban skyline as Jennifer White watched from her kitchen window, her knuckles white as she gripped the cool marble countertop. Victor Ray, her husband of fifteen years, sat obliviously at the table, the rustle of his newspaper a grating soundtrack to her simmering resentment. For over a decade, she had felt the slow, insidious squeeze of his emotional neglect, draining her spirit like a fruit left to wither on the vine. He had squeezed her compassion dry during his professional failures, squeezed her patience thin with his endless excuses, and squeezed her joy into a compact, forgotten thing. Tonight, however, the well was finally empty, and a chilling calm had settled in its place, her resolve hardening into something unbreakable. Placing a simple, typed letter on the table before him, she watched as his eyes scanned the first few lines, his face initially clouded with confusion. “I’m done being squeezed ’til the last drop, Victor,” she stated, her voice unnervingly steady, devoid of the anger he might have expected. The realization dawned on him then, a slow-motion collapse of his entire world as he understood this was not another argument but a final decree. He was left with nothing but the stark, silent evidence of his own taking, the hollowed-out shell of the woman he had claimed to love. Jennifer simply turned, picked up the single suitcase waiting by the door, and stepped out into the twilight, finally free from the relentless pressure.