The Soulless Souls

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The first week when we got married was so awkward and depressing that I was even thinking about escaping and maybe emigrating to Italy.

But then I remembered that I was the biggest coward alive.

Most of the time, I just sat in the kitchen staring at the wall, thinking what I had become and how much I hated myself.

It wasn't my fault, though. It wasn't my fault. I didn't want to marry him. He wanted to marry me. He blackmailed me. At least, that's what I tried to tell myself but that nagging voice in my head just didn't shut up.

Then why did you agree, you stupid chicken? The angry voice in my head asked which I didn't have an answer for.

"Edith!", I heard him call. His steps were fast, he was in a hurry. We overslept and he was late for work. It wasn't the first time this happened. Not the second time either.

"Edith, do you know where my bag is?" He stood in the threshold; I gave him a side glance.

"In your study", I sighed, fixing my eyes on the wall again.

"Thanks. I'll go then. Should I bring you something from the grocery store?"

"I'm fine. Bye." A divorce file would be nice, though. But I could never say it out loud. My cowardness was a barrier between my thoughts and my lips, just like my conscience.

"Not even cherry soda?"

I looked at him, he smiled knowingly. I pressed my lips together. Don't give in. Don't give in. Don't give-

"Okay. Two bottles."

He chuckled. "Alright. Bye, see you to-"

"Wait." I stood up and walked towards him. I pointed at his shirt that had two buttons undone, but I did not touch him. "You forgot two buttons."

He looked down at his maroon dress shirt, his eyes slightly widening in realization. "Oh." He fixed himself, then he patted my head. "Thanks. See you tonight."

He left, I stood there like an ice statue. The spot on my head where he patted me still tingled.

Ari often patted my head. I thought, it was one of his habits. Something he did without really thinking about it. So, I tried to ignore it to the best of my ability. Which was rather difficult because my ability to do anything was outrageous.

When he did that the very first time, patting my head, I mean, I flinched so hard that I bumped against the wall. The second, third and fourth time, I slapped his hand away.

I was sulking and homesick and seeing his face repulsed me and his touch felt more than just toxic. But then, I just let him do it. Patting my head wasn't the worst thing he could do to me. And maybe I was just overwhelmed with everything that was going on that I noticed how my energy vanished and I was not in the mood to fight him. I wasn't in the mood to do anything.

Though, I never let my guard down when I was around him. He was still a dubious, weird, and suspicious man, and so much more powerful than me. As much as I hate to admit it, it was the truth. And as much as he wanted me to, I didn't feel safe around him.

~

Around two weeks ago

I met him again in my hometown, a small town not too far from Chicago. I was sitting on the curb in front of my parents' comic shop, drinking cherry soda and playing with a cat.

It was a hot day in June, the midday-sun was burning on my neck as I had cut my hair short.

I saw from the corner of my eye how he approached me and just sat down next to me. His tall figure provided for me a cool shadow. I noticed how he inched closer, and I mentally prepared myself so that I was ready to scream if he attacked me.