"Someone was opening the front door with a latchkey. It was Brently Mallard who entered, a little traveled-stained, composedly carrying his gripsack and umbrella. He had been far from the scene of the accident, and did not even know there had been one. He stood amazed at Josephine's piercing cry; at Richards' quick motion to screen him from the view of his wife. But Richards was too late" (Chopin 16). When the doctors came they said she had suffered from a terrible stroke. The stroke left her fully paralyzed from the neck down and rendered her completely helpless. When the doctors revealed the horrible news to Mr. Mallard he was grief-stricken, the love of his life, his wife was forever in a vulnerable position and there was nothing he could do about it. When Mrs. Mallard was released from the hospital she was put in Mr. Mallard's care. Mr. Mallard would have to tend to every one of Mrs. Mallards needs, but he didn't mind, he loved her and he would do anything for her. Days passed by into months and months turned into years, every day from morning to night Mr. Mallard would care for Mrs. Mallard. He would feed her, bath her, and make sure she wasn't being devoid of her needs.
             As years went by Mr. Mallards duties became robotic, and soon he felt trapped, compelled only to take care of his disabled wife. The feelings of love for his wife were slowly drifting away and he knew they were. Over the course of time his actions became reckless and the well-being of his wife was no longer the top priority. He began to feel resentment towards her and one day he had enough. All of the anger and animosity he had bottled up inside was finally let loose. In a blinding rage he began destroying the whole house by overturning furniture, throwing dishes and punching holes in the walls. Mrs. Mallard lay in her bed upstairs terrified; she could only imagine the damage being done to her house. Suddenly all the commoti...