Her heart bled as she watched him from the corner where she was hurdled up in fear, destroy the things around him in anger.
Once upon a time, her marriage to him used to be ‘goals’ for every single woman that ever came across her and her ‘perfect’ husband, yes! He was once the perfect husband.
“You’re both so young and cute together” she would often hear from admirers. Classic as it may be, she enjoyed her marriage and the attention that came with it during the first year; two years into the relationship and she had never felt out of place like she did now, divorce wasn’t an option because the society would not be pleased with this new development, the society couldn’t even know that she had and was still a victim of verbal and domestic abuse. She would take it all in and use concealer to mask it off and wear a smile alongside while she told her colleagues at the office “my husband? Of course he’s doing great, he has me to take care of him” and close it with a wink that sparked jealousy in the hearts of her colleagues while her insides kept getting destroyed by this lie. She couldn’t bring herself to tell anyone that her perfect husband was an abusive beast, who would believe that a man as handsome and as caring as her husband could raise even a finger against her.
She heard him grunt about whatever it was that was bothering him under his breath as he hit the wall, she was surprised that his ranting was taking too long today. Normally, he would rant for a while and hit her in between rants to subdue his anger, and they would make love thereafter because her body was his final destination for his anger. She loved him very much, that was why she gave her body up for battering. She counted the minutes till he was ready to hit her so she could break the big news to him after his severe battering, it would probably bring him back to his senses knowing that this one had gone past six weeks.
During the first few months of her marriage, her perfect husband and his mother had expected that she would take in and start making babies immediately; a month into her marriage, she was already being checked for signs of a pregnancy, the influence her mother-in-law had on her son started becoming obvious when he began to pressure her into quitting her job so she could get pregnant and give his mother grand-babies like that was all that mattered.
She took in finally and her husband returned to the loving man he was during their first days, her mind was at peace again as he showered her with gifts and planned romantic dinners without her being aware, he kept her away from everything strenuous and made sure she was well rested and pampered, this went on until she lost the pregnancy in its fourth week. Her husband’s beast returned with twice the rage it had before, he resorted to domestic violence as it was her fault that she lost the pregnancy, it was always her fault.
Today, she knew that there was a gleam of hope somewhere in the realisation that this pregnancy had gone beyond its sixth week. She could feel in her bones that this one was here to stay. She wanted him to come and hit her and get over with it. The ticking of the clock became louder and her mind ticked along with it, she smiled weakly as she imagined telling her husband about her day at work and how a male driver yelled at her and made rude remarks about ‘women and driving being wrong’, she imagined her husband cursing the driver and giving her a kiss on the forehead to assure her that she had not done anything wrong by being a woman who drove. She pulled away into her subconscious state, maybe he wasn’t going to hit her today, she smiled in her subconsciousness as she imagined her breaking the news to him, his passionate kiss against her soft skin that gave her a sense of complete reassurance made her heart warm…
The ringing of the slap that rejuvenated inside her ears brought her back to consciousness with a start…
Do you know someone who is in a situationship and is scared to get out of it because he/she is scared of what people will say?
Have you every tried talking to them?