Mar 29, 2014

Wilting flowers

          She starred down at the cuts, wounds and the blood that was dripping from her battered body, looking as if her mouth would fly open to recite her last prayers and her head, to lie lifelessly on the cold floor. She remained on the floor crawling with the tip of her dress sticking out and leaving traces of blood behind. Her cloth was drained in her blood and had become lucid because of the sweat that came so profusely, gluing her strap to her dark chocolate skin. 
          She sat there paying no attention to her environment but plastered her shaky hands to her face, to wipe away tears that had no end to it. Her eyes were cherry red and had become swollen from the tears that filled her weary eyes. She could barely move, still staggering but managed to lift herself with the support she got from dainty furniture's that were evenly spread along the corners of the room. She made her way to the washroom, pushing the door forcefully and starring at the room strangely as if her eyes caught an usual sight all buried within the four corners of the room. 
          She let go of her already stained linen dress, letting it fall quietly to the cold floor, before sticking out her tiny toes that had been trapped in the dress. She gave out a sigh that ushered in tears from her eyes, running its way through her cheeks, where its effects became a little more apparent with the white marks it left behind. She placed her hands on her mouth forcing herself to hold back tears before allowing her misty eyes to fall on her naked self as she scrutinized her body with open gaze.
            She could not bear to look at what her body had become. Her dark skin that glowed through the years was now dull and was stained with blood and patches from accumulated injuries. Injuries caused by the one she was willing to render her life for when she said those sweet, touching and purposeful words - "I do", with all the breath and life she had within her. She got into the bathtub and decided to let her thoughts wander to the repeated sounds of water against her shadowed skin. She stayed in it embracing the cold. It reminded her about how cold she felt inside and the hurts she encountered each passing moment of the day. She twisted the tap pointing it to the neatly inscribed word "hot" before she twisted it again completely to keep the water from falling right unto her.
          She dried herself with the towel that was on the rack, brushing it mildly against her beat-up skin before shifting to her room where she dabbed her body with the scented pomade that lay idly on the shelf for months but was now put to good use. She searched her drawer carefully for a dress he bought her on her birthday, just when things were fine between the two. She recalled his expression that day when she wore it. He loved the flowery pattern and the embroidery that was on it, but most of all what had caught his eyes was the fitting it had on her. His adoration for the dress was conspicuous and he made her think back to when they were dating and how shy she had been on her first date with him. She gave a quick laugh but quickly returned her face to the melancholy look it held all morning.
         She wore the dress, assessing her body through the mirror, turning both to the left and right to take a look at the curve that was mapped out due to the elasticity of the dress. She gathered whatever was on the bed and placed it in a bag that stood at the door. After a quick glance at the room, she returned to the bed, rubbing her hands through it and undoing the rough portions of the bed where she slept.

          She lifted her gaze and it fell on the image that was walking arrogantly through the heavy doors of the quiet house. She saw him. Her eyes met his and her tummy was forced to do a flip-flop with her heart pounding overly. He was there standing without uttering a word. He was there starring and looking intensively at the dress she wore. His face held up a smile and that brought warmth to her heart. She was impressed she had been able to capture his attention with so much ease. If she could give herself a pat without him noticing, she would have done so but there was no way she could conceal the joy in her eyes.
          "It had been way too long". She murmured tiredly before walking confidently to where he stood, throwing her hands up in the air to give him the hug she had been dreaming of. She wanted her head to lie against him, her soft cheeks brushing his well-built chest. She missed that feeling, his scent that sent her wishing she was always locked in his embrace. She was hoping he would be willing to do that now, just as she walked gracefully to him. He had become more handsome, she noted. He must have beaten her almost to the point of death because it was just now her eyes functioned beyond its capacity and behold she was able to take in the changes she descried in him.                                                         
          He no longer kept his dark bushy hair high but low, his cheerful look was now gloomy but still revealed his handsome features. There was this compelling force that kept her swollen eyes fixative on him. It was one that yielded out her bright and cheerful smile. If she said she missed him only, then she had become a liar overnight. She wanted his warmth brushing over her stationary self and his angelic voice, whispering the words “I love you” softly into her ears. She was longing for when her heart would not beat because she saw him in sight, but when they both could lie side by side and relish the joy of being together, if possible locked in each other’s embrace.
          He drifted from her, from where her hands were held high to give him the welcoming hug he needed. The comfort of his wife, he rejected it easily without a second thought to it. Her mouth fell open and she wanted to hit herself right in the head for being stupid. How could she possibly think that someone who just gave her, a taste of hell would be willing to hold unto her?


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