His Wife

Chapter 1: What Is Love?

A soft whistle flew through the kitchen window and disturbed everything inside like my guilt often did to my mind. On a beautiful day in June like this there was no way I wouldn't have all the windows open in the house. I couldn't help but gaze outside for a moment to view everything which beamed with life. Because my husband and I lived in the country, through the window all I saw was a fresh cut lawn of glistening green grass that shone in the midday sun as a result of the showers from the night before. The color green consumed my eyes and the longer I peered through the window, the more it expanded. The fresh cut grass didn't even reveal one unwanted weed because my husband was keen on making sure everything in his life was perfect, including me.

I took another glance at the window as the wind went from a whistle to a loud screech and it felt like it had the need to brush across every tree. Beyond our vast yard were miles of woodland and a good portion of it belonged to us. My husband and I both despised the idea of living in a packed area or even in a community. We weren't exactly people lovers, though he always put on the facade that he was. I've practically lost hope in humanity after my childhood and I felt safe in the confinement that the woods gave me. All I needed to be happy were the peaceful songs that the birds sang for me instead of a bunch of people causing me unnecessary anxiety.

From time to time my husband and I would argue until I just got in the habit of doing everything he wanted me to do to avoid conflict because I couldn't stand any more conflict in my life. Especially with my own husband. Every time anyone took it upon themselves to start shit with me I'd just sit down and remain silent because it was better to just give in than to get hurt. I knew that because I had to go through the same cycle over and over again until I became dizzy from spinning around and around and around. That was when I just started doing every little thing anyone asked of me. That's when I finally decided to walk the tightrope and I wouldn't dare slip up. Life became easier for me that way all thanks to of that strategy I picked up when I was sixteen, I got to live with my parents for a while after. They even helped me with college, but I still believed to this day that they only helped me with college to get my ass out of their house so everything could be blissful for them once again.

I was certain the only reason why I was here today was because either the condom broke or because my mother's body rejected the birth control. I didn't know for sure because they never said anything or even implied anything. But I just felt it and it was a feeling far too strong to ignore. I was also sure they tried to abort me when they had the chance if my mother knew she was pregnant before it was too late. I always felt that way because over time, I became such a burden to them and I never understood why. I'd always question why they never put me up for adoption, but I supposed they thought they could tolerate me and were possibly even glad they had me. But by the time I was six, they'd just have me sit in my room all day and if I stepped out for anything other than food or to use the bathroom they'd simply order me to go back to my room. During family events they'd always just have me sit somewhere and keep silent unless someone spoke to me first. Of course, because I never really interacted with other children, I never thought of it as anything less than normal.

By the time I was eight, they had me take on the responsibility of doing all the chores there were to do. I supposed I didn't mind it because I was a very well behaved and mellow child but like every child, I had my moments. I would cry silently once in a while when I was old enough to comprehend that I wasn't getting enough love or attention. I barely got any love or attention after I exceeded the age of five. I wasn't even allowed to speak to my parents at the dinner table unless I was spoken to. As the years passed and I gained more knowledge, I had become more depressed the more I realized my parents didn't love me. Sadness would always lurk behind my eyes and my face was like a blank canvas because it contained no color or expression.