Where Do We Go From Here?

The morning had a chill to it.. Suzanne poured herself a cup of coffee and stared out the window. The sky was grey and dark. The body lay cold and alone in the meat freezer, purchased for the venison and elk they could never garner enough energy to hunt, sitting in their garage. The coffee left a bitter aftertaste in her mouth and she poured it down the sink.
She hadn't meant to kill him, wound him, yes, a flesh wound, perhaps in the leg or the shoulder--but her aim was lousy. How close a shoulder is to a heart. They should have hunted more, she thought regretfully. Still, waves of relief flooded through her, drowning out the emotion before it could actually take hold each time an image of the body hidden in the freezer flashed through her mind. How much could one person endure before snapping like a dried up twig, she thought. Was there no end to her suffering? Finally, she had, however accidentally, stumbled upon the perfect solution.
The argument had started just like the ones hundred times before. Except there never was an arguement but for the one she held silently in her mind, the rebuttals she never found the courage to say out loud. This time she'd forgotten to clean out the lint thingy from the dryer. What was it actually called? She could never remember. He'd held it in front of her and shaken it like a weapon. She'd nodded her head and apologized again and again. Then the litany of things she'd done wrong came at her like bullets, her inherent flakiness and irresponsible nature, her selfishness and inconsiderate ways. She was a waste of space, unable to complete the simplest of tasks without screwing them up.http://images.writing.com/imgs/writing.com/writers/editor/writingml-italics.gif