Anthem, Silent

Ivy

The door to the room that I was trapped in opened and in walked a woman I wish my glare alone could send to the deepest darkest of hells. Rosita closed the door behind her, confidently strutting into the room dressed in a black Versace dress adorned in gold chains along the sweetheart neckline, her hair was pulled back into a low and tight bun, her face covered in make-up, and her lips looked fuller than the last time that I saw her and I knew that she’d gotten some work done on them. I looked away from her, mute, and looked to the side, looking at the door that she’d just walked through. I looked at the prosthetic legs that had been placed close to the door, exactly where I wouldn’t be able to reach, and I wished that they could magically come to me. 

“My, my,” she tusked, placing her Versace purse on the edge of the custom massive bed that could probably seat more than 20 people comfortably. I was back in the bedroom that I’d watched Schalk die in, and the memories here made it hard for me to sleep. “What a sight you are,” she scoffed, cackling lowly as her eyes regarded my pathetic state. 

I ground my jaw, feeling my throat burn as I couldn’t help but look down at myself again. I was met with the sight of my now crippled body, if I could say it was that. I was left on this bed by Schalk, and my legs were now a part of my past, a part of me I’d never get back because I dared to use them to get away from him. He didn’t like that, and so, he told me that he was taking my privileges away from me. 

“Schalk! Ple-please! No, no! Schalk!” I screamed at the top of my lungs as he approached me with the saw. After our wedding, he’d taken us to Peru for our honeymoon. We were on a private island, in a private villa, and there was nobody here to save me. 

“Don’t worry, babygirl. I have many Muslim friends, you know, I once went with one of my friends from university, his name was Muhammad. I tagged along with his family when they were going on what was called ‘Umrah’, fascinating thing, I tell you, my soet Ivy, Muslims are highly dedicated to their religion. Anyways, we land in a place called Medina, and there, we went shopping, walking along stalls and stores, and I realised something, there wasn’t such a thing as closing their doors or locking their stores like anywhere else in the world. When it was time for prayer they would just drop everything as it was, leave it unguarded and go pray. I was fascinated,” Schalk explained to me as he ran his fingers along the teeth of the saw. “Then, as we walked there was this place, where there were tens of beggars, speaking in Arabic and Muslim, I don’t know how to say it. I noticed that these beggars were missing a couple of limbs, some didn’t have hands because they were chopped off at their wrists, others didn’t have until their elbows, and others didn’t have feet until the ankles, and so on and so forth. Muhammad explained to me that according to Muslim law, when you catch a thief, you should cut off their hand to their wrist, and if they steal again, you cut off the other hand. So that explained why there was little to no existent crime there. The officials would cut off the hands of the thief and place their arm in this bowl or pot of boiling hot oil, and create this smooth finish around the severed part, making it easier to heal,” he finished explaining, a grin spreading across his face. 

“So, I’ve thought to do the same to you, my soet Ivy. Except I’m going to cut off your toes, and then dip your foot in the oil,” he explained bringing a big pot of hot oil and I screamed, trying to fight on the steel table that he had me restrained to so that I couldn’t fight him. I sobbed uncontrollably, my tongue unable to come up with the pleas to get me out of this. “Then, I’m going to let you breathe, because that will be punishment for poisoning me. Then, I’m going to saw off your feet until your ankles, and then dip what’s left of it in hot oil again, make you feel burning oil and pain over and over again. That’s for daring to use your feet for running away from me.” He came closer to me, placing a kiss to my forehead and brushing my hair from my face as he peered down at me as I lay on the surgical table, sobbing and shaking my head side to side.