He was not yet home. It was getting late and the headlights of his car hadn’t lit up the dark street leading to their house. But she was glad he wasn’t back. She had a chance to pray that tonight would be different. She was worried too though…not because of the number of passing hours, but because she knew what each additional hour meant.

He had probably stopped at the bar for a drink. He would have told the guys he only wanted a small one, just to whet his tongue. But she knew it never stopped there. Judging by the time that the clock showed, he was probably slurring by then and needed someone to help him stand up straight and drive him home…

The clock showed 3.15 in the morning before there was finally a car in the driveway and a knock at the door. She was waiting and thanked his friend for bringing him home wishing in her heart that he had not let her husband drink that much there that night. It was worse when he drank…so much worse…

She locked the front door and tried to help him into the sitting room but he shoved her aside. He stood there, in the middle of the room; reeking of cheap whisky…she couldn’t imagine how she ever agreed to marry him…but things were different then…there was the baby…the child she lost when he hit her that first time and she had fallen down the stairs….he would have been four that year…

He swayed on his feet and tottered towards her. Instinctively she recoiled. Afraid. Terrified of the man she thought she loved at one point of time. Enraged at her reaction to him he called out abuses and caught her, twisting her arm until she let out a gasp of pain. It seemed to give him some sort of pleasure. She couldn’t understand it. But then, she had stopped trying to figure him out a long time ago. She has her own Dr. Jekyll and Mr. Hyde…and she hated it. He spun her around and hit her. She fell to the ground. He picked her up and hit her again and again and again. She wondered how much longer it would take before his fist left a permanent impression in her face. And as the drops of crimson fell on the ground…she couldn’t believe how many times this had happened before…

Dawn was just breaking when she woke up and took a hot shower hoping to ease her pain. Her whole being was sore from the beating it took the previous night. She looked at herself in the bathroom mirror. At least this time, nothing needed stitches, nothing felt broken and the bruises were in places no one else would see. The cut over her eye had closed during the night and it could be covered up with properly applied makeup. If she moved slowly, it didn’t hurt to breathe. There would be no awkward trip to the clinic this time…

She was cleaning up the blood stains from the floor when he came into the sitting room. He planted a kiss on her forehead and apologized for what he had done the night before. He brought in some flowers from the garden and as she looked at the crimson carnations on the table…she hated how many times the same sequence of events had played over and over again in her life…she swore it would never happen again.

It was two nights later when he came home smelling like he had drunk the barkeepers inventory. When he reached out for her, she tried to pull away before he hit her, but he was too fast. He slapped her and she saw stars but as always said nothing. He hit her again and again and then took off his belt and used that on her…when he stopped for a moment to take a breath, she ran for the kitchen and pulled out a knife. She held it in shaky uncertain hands but knew she had at last had enough. She threatened him with the knife, warning him that if he didn’t stop hitting her she would run him thru, but he only laughed. That sick horrible laugh. The one that left her hair on end. He told her she was too weak and he could prove that she could do nothing. Just as she had done nothing for so many years. He strode forward, jeering, swinging that belt to hit her….

As the river of crimson ran on the floor…she looked at the blood stained knife in her hands and was at peace… it would finally never ever happen again…


4 comments on “Crimson

  1. Athenas Take says:

    Many women go through this everyday of their lives, nobody does anything to help her, it is she who has to decide whether she wants to stop him or end herself. Very well written and makes you feel the chill down your spine


    • Me says:

      Thank you for liking the way it was written 🙂
      And it sickens me how the terrible truth of our society is that women have to think twice before reporting such abuse. I don’t know how long it will take before anything changes.


  2. Karthik Kini says:

    😥 Ths post put me to tears..


  3. whinyboy says:

    you know when i first saw the heading -crimson i thought u had a midlife crisis and changed your colour liking, but apparently not. nice one though


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