I could see Frank imagine how it would go, and realise that I was right.
“You ugly witch. You've thought this through, didn't you? Well, then stay, but don't expect me to make you tea or breakfast anymore. Or sleep in the same room as me.” He spit at me, and it landed right on my chest. But I felt contend, because we had taken the first step of our new life. Frank stormed out of the room and went upstairs. I fell on the couch and let my tired body get some rest.

The next week, Frank avoided me whenever he could, and if we were in the same room, the air felt like ice and he never let his eyes of me. He didn't trust me at all, I couldn't blame him, but I also enjoyed that he was scared of me. It made me feel powerfull. Sometimes I even made jokes about it. When I made dinner and chopped some mushrooms, I'd walk into the livingroom and make a throwing gesture. He'd totally freak out and scream at me. I'd laugh untill my belly hurt.

But after a couple of days, I got pissed about the situation. Frank wouldn't let me get close to him, he didn't relax or give up his mistrusting attitude. Maybe he would keep this up for weeks or months. That's not how I'd thought this would be. One day he was working and I was home, and I thought about it. I'd have to be clever, but I'd get him once more. He thought he was the man and could play with me, but I'd show him. Around the time he was supposed to get home, I hid myself in the guestroom, with a broom that I'd had taken from downstairs. I crawled behind a cupboard, and heard him come home.

“Mandy?” Usually I'd answer to let him know I was there. He called out a couple of times, and I imagined myself how he'd shrug and walk upstairs to change. Frank glanced in every room, mistrusting as he was, even checked behind the showercurtain, and then went into his, formerly our, bedroom. I sneaked up to the door, carefully taking the broom with me and saw him loosening his tie, take off his shirt and walk to the chair where he'd neatly hang his clothes. He was standing with his back to me, and I slowly stepped forward, my feet making no sound on the carpet. I held the broom next to me, making sure it didn't drag over the floor. I took one more step, Frank suddenly turned around with his eyes filled with fear, and quickly I pushed the broom up to his neck. It hit him hard, the thick wooden stick bruiced his throat. He groaned, and with a swift movement I pushed my leg behind his and made him fall backwards. I jumped on his chest and leaned on the broom.

Frank was caught by surprise and didn't have any breath left to fight. He kicked me in the back a little bit, scratched my arms, but his face was allready turning purple. His eyes bulged and I had to look away, because it made me feel sick. My job isn't easy at all, I thought by myself. Being a warrior princess has it's turnoffs. But I felt proud, I made this work. I was still living with Frank, maybe a tad uneasy, but still. We'd get used to this, and Frank would always survive and maybe he'd be scared now and then, but eventually, he'd love me again. Forever. Whatever I might think of doing to him. I smiled, and then got up to make myself dinner.