She flung her head towards the blue sky, tears pouring from her eyes. What had she been working for all these years, was she as incapable as her now-dead mother had often jeered at her. Her bottom lip trembled from thought of it. She moved her hands to wipe her tears away, stopping midway as she realized the knife was still in her hand. The crimson red dripping off it, falling onto the cold white snow and as she watched, her pale lips curved into a slow smile. She chuckled trying to hold back her laughter. She paused from the laughter, pulling herself up from the kneeling position trying to catch her breath.
“What a pity,” she said. Her index finger gently caressed the blade, remembering the warm blood falling onto her. The heavy burden on her shoulder had flown away, melted into a pool of snow like the blood had. Then she hung her head; her crying had quieted into silent sobs. The knife tumbled onto the snow as her hand fell limply beside her. There was no justice in the world. All the pain she took, all the abuse she wordlessly took – all for the sake of her child. All she could ask herself was why had she bothered in the first place. Why didn’t anyone try to save her from this nightmare?
She clenched her fists unconsciously; she had forgotten how he once smiled so lovingly at her. How many years had it been since he had touched her affectionately she wondered. Had time that seemed to pass so achingly slow had passed by so fast. The days that she spent hiding in the dark, fearing him had blurred into months, into years. Why have they turned into this?
She staggered into the dark sullen house that she had feared for so long. Silently, caressing the hair of her husband, she wept with what she had left. The blue eyes that she once loved would never see her again, even if it was to beat her.
“Darling, wake up,” she said still ceaselessly caressing his stiff hair. The dried blood on her hand flaked off, falling onto the stained carpet. The door shuddered in the mourning wind, bringing more snow with it. “We were going to have a family. You were going to be a papa,” she whispered though he would never hear her.
Blankly she looked around. The fire had died when she had ran out with the door wide open. The chair had broken when he had thrown her against it. The plates had fallen into pieces where she had reached for the knife. How those few minutes had turned into something that seemed forever, something she’d never turn back. Her heart ached. Why was she in the wrong; why was he not in the wrong? He had killed her spirit, her baby – her unborn child. Yet she was the one in the wrong; she was not the one people cared, he was.
“Let’s go,” a man said, reaching his hand out to her. Who was he? She gazed vacantly at him. The man clothed in black gave her a wry smile, “Its time to join them.” She placed her hand in his, following his silent steps. Who was ‘them’? Where were they going? What had she been doing? Who was she? She looked back perplexed, the grim house fading from view, the quiet snow fading into the balmy sunlight. All that filled her was this overwhelming peace. She was home at last.
—-
Author’s Note:
I understand that it seems a little disjointed due to the fact that the main character paces back and forth from guilt to anger. It was written to be like that. The ending is an opened ended one, but I’d like to think the main character died in peace.
