Story 7 - Blood.
It was a marriage of convenience - he lived abroad, was well settled, had a great job and a big house. She loved the idea of freedom and luxury this new life would offer her, a chance to get away from the eyes of her prying relatives and a judgmental society - to live life as she chooses. So she agreed, though she didn't really like the guy. And to him, she was the pretty princess. a priced possession he could show off to his friends and family, a proof that he was indeed living a normal and successful life. The marriage was rushed - everything had to be done in the two weeks that he was in India and their families moved heaven and earth to make the big fat Indian wedding happen.
She remembered the first thought she had as she entered this strange land - tall trees, taller buildings, and tall and handsome young men. During the first few days of their marriage, she was slightly embarrassed to be seen with this bald and stout middle aged guy - but she soon started feeling good about the sympathy looks and flirtatious glances some of the men would give her and occasionally, when she was sure he didn't notice, she would smile back.
The first year of their marriage he tried to make her happy - bringing back flowers and expensive gifts home, taking her on luxurious vacations and expensive shopping sprees. She got accustomed to this new life and cut off every one she had known before. And just when she thought it was her, him and their obnoxious way of life, the market crashed. Peak of recession, they had to sell their house, move to a condo and he was doing odd handyman jobs to make ends meet.
That was when the vicious cycle started. The excessive drinking, the blame game, the fowl language, the physical hurt, the bruises and blood stains, and the endless apologies the next day and making up. Week after week after week this continued and she got tired of the bullshit. But she put up with the hope that the recession would go away and he would get a job again and they could go back to their life before.
Until today.
She was still dazed as she ran out of the house. It had gone a little too far today.
She didn't remember why the argument started or what they argued about. There was just so much shouting. There was a knife, she remembered. She wasn't sure where it came from. Perhaps, he had come lunging at her with it. Perhaps she had it hidden in her dress. Everything was so dazed. She pushed him away. She was scared. As she ran away, she looked behind. Her foot were leaving blood prints on the floor.
Only, it wasn't hers.
The victim finally succumbed to her abuse.
She remembered the first thought she had as she entered this strange land - tall trees, taller buildings, and tall and handsome young men. During the first few days of their marriage, she was slightly embarrassed to be seen with this bald and stout middle aged guy - but she soon started feeling good about the sympathy looks and flirtatious glances some of the men would give her and occasionally, when she was sure he didn't notice, she would smile back.
The first year of their marriage he tried to make her happy - bringing back flowers and expensive gifts home, taking her on luxurious vacations and expensive shopping sprees. She got accustomed to this new life and cut off every one she had known before. And just when she thought it was her, him and their obnoxious way of life, the market crashed. Peak of recession, they had to sell their house, move to a condo and he was doing odd handyman jobs to make ends meet.
That was when the vicious cycle started. The excessive drinking, the blame game, the fowl language, the physical hurt, the bruises and blood stains, and the endless apologies the next day and making up. Week after week after week this continued and she got tired of the bullshit. But she put up with the hope that the recession would go away and he would get a job again and they could go back to their life before.
Until today.
She was still dazed as she ran out of the house. It had gone a little too far today.
She didn't remember why the argument started or what they argued about. There was just so much shouting. There was a knife, she remembered. She wasn't sure where it came from. Perhaps, he had come lunging at her with it. Perhaps she had it hidden in her dress. Everything was so dazed. She pushed him away. She was scared. As she ran away, she looked behind. Her foot were leaving blood prints on the floor.
Only, it wasn't hers.
The victim finally succumbed to her abuse.
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