Dear Laura 2

Chapter 25

October 27, 2021. I remember that day like it was yesterday. It was the day I took back the strength that Abdul stole from me. I had been planning my move on Abdul for weeks. Now that my bruises had sort of healed, how about I get my revenge? Apparently, we were going to the courthouse for their wedding in three weeks. I had to escape before the wedding.

Abdul was as predictable as the ticking of a clock, so I could time everything. I knew the exact time he would be walking through the door, how long it would take for him to kiss me, the minutes he would take to go to our bedroom to remove his tie, blazer and shoes. I knew exactly how many minutes it would take for him to look in the fridge for something to snack on. I had memorized his routines so thoroughly they might as well have been my own.

He went to the lounge to sit, rambling about clients and colleagues. With steady hands, I poured the wine, and a single flick of my wrist added the crushed pills.

"To us," I toasted, the edge of my voice soft, almost affectionate.

The wine worked slowly, as I knew it would. He went on to ramble, his words tangling and slurring as the pills did their job. He swayed, with clear confusion in his eyes. If I had not rehearsed that moment so many times in my head, I would have panicked. But I managed to remain calm.

When he finally sagged into the chair, weak and dazed, I stood and moved with quiet precision. From the bedside drawer, I retrieved the knife I had hidden weeks ago.

When I returned to the kitchen, he looked up at me, blinking through the haze. "Mia..." He muttered with a thick voice.

Too bad I had a minimal knowledge of the human anatomy that I did not know the precise location of a heart. I felt so much satisfaction when that knife pierced his chest. Memories flooded my mind instantly. Memories of how his words were always like daggers, piercing through my heart, leaving unhealable scars. It was all over; the constant belittling, the way he made me feel and insignificant. How he stripped away my confidence, my sense of self-worth, leaving behind only a hollow shell of the woman I once was.

Blood bloomed against his white shirt; a violent red that spread like quick. My breath hitched in exhilaration.

"Mia..." He choked, blood bubbling at the corners of his mouth. His eyes searched mine, wide with disbelief, "help me." He whimpered in pain, and I chuckled in his face. Blood was coming out of his nostrils and mouth, and he would not stop coughing. Seeing him helpless resulted in the anger built up in me dissipating into the air and peace creeping in like a new breeze of oxygen.

I watched him and thought about how I would never have to feel the constant feeling of walking on eggshells, never knowing when his temper would flare up again. I was finally free. And I was relishing in it. I had reclaimed back the life Abdul had tried so hard to take away. I was stronger because of him and in spite of him. I finally felt like my child was avenged.

"I see why you hit me now. Violence brings a sense of confidence that I cannot explain." I chuckled. "It's a dose of your own medicine. You don't like how it tastes sweetie?" I squatted next to him and brushed his hair. His eyes pleaded for mercy, but mercy was a luxury I knew he did not deserve. I was pushed to the brink, and I was striking back in self-defence.

"I could have been your best love." I stepped on his helpless palm and exited the apartment. I had his credit card; I'd just buy new stuff.

...

Dear Laura, this is the last letter I'm writing to you. I heard that I am coming out tomorrow and that Abdul was arrested because evidence supporting my letters was found. And the judge recognised what I did as an act of self-defence. I want to express my heartfelt gratitude for your assistance in helping me escape this ordeal. Knowing that Abdul will face the consequences for the torment he inflicted upon me brings me some measure of closure and I am so grateful. Thank you for believing in me when no one else did. You have given me a chance to start over, to heal wounds that he left behind.