A shot at Love

Chapter 01

It is still dark in the room when I am suddenly awake by the noise of thunder and rain outside. I look outside the huge windows of the room and it's frightening yet so beautiful. The rainfall is hard like my life has been for the last six months. I try getting up but I cannot since my legs don't seem to have enough strength. I just look away from the window because I hate that everyone out there is free and I am locked in this hellhole.

I cannot just lie down here after what happened to me last night. I need to get out. As I try to move my legs and get out of bed, all the memories come back flashing to me but I ignore them. I pull away the cover from my body and see some blood dripping down my legs. Despite the ache all over my body, I get out of bed. What can be worse, there is no closet in this room, I pull the sheets off the bed and cover myself, from head to toe, in them. But instead of going out of the room and into the lounge, I open one of the windows and walk into the terrace. As I stand there, the thought of jumping down comes to my mind. I step closer to the ledge so that I can jump down but I do not as I see someone all the way down on the road in this deadly rain, looking up, at the sky. How lonely he must be. It gave me hope. I can hardly make out the face of the man and I am sure that he might not be able to make out mine as well. I start waving my hand. 'I need to get out of here', I think to myself and the only thing that I can do right now is this because if I go out in the lounge and see my husband sitting on a chair waiting for me, I might just die.

I stop waving my hand as the thought comes to my mind that may be this man is even worse than my husband. I mean look at him, he is standing on a road at approximately 4:30 in the morning; in front of a building which only has families living in it. He may be here to screw someone as well. I get scared even more than I was before. Maybe he's not bad. God! How'd I know. I didn't even know my husband could be like this. Maybe I am just bad at judging people. I want to jump down from the terrace so bad yet I don't because my faith comes in the way this time.

My heart sinks at the thought of going out to the lounge. I ignore the person standing on the road and tie some knots on the sheets covering me and step out of the room. I am scared so much so I don't know how to breathe anymore. And my heart is pounding so hard that I do not know what to do. As I am outside in the lounge, I do not see my husband. For a second, I just want to escape as it is but reality sets in, I can't escape like this. I need to cover up. God! I hope he'd left.

I stop functioning for a second because of what I am doing and what has happened and how there is blood constantly dripping down my legs. The blood is not so much for me to worry about. After what has happened already, it's the least of my worries.

My main goal is to escape this place. I keep standing at the same spot for 5 minutes. Its so weird that after being treated like that, I didn't cry and I don't think I ever would, I just slept for two hours. I am even scared of myself now. 'Get out of here', I tell myself.

To keep myself safe from my husband, I grab the sharpest knife from the island of the kitchen and hold it up. I grab my car keys first which, thankfully, I see right in front of me on the table near the entrance of the house. Then, I tiptoe to the room where I and my husband used to sleep.

As I, stand outside the door, cold sweat drops down my neck. I am scared again but more than that, I am angry. The blood in my veins; boils with rage. This time I pray he's not inside because I am not sure, if I'd be able to hold myself from attacking him with the knife.

I say 'In the name of Allah' in my heart while keeping the knife up in one hand and the car keys in the other. And open the door. To my surprise, he's gone. I don't remember what happened after he... as I blacked out. He must've left immediately.

This house is huge. I look for him in all the rooms and bathrooms. When I am sure he's really not here. I grab a T-shirt and a pair of trousers. I don't bother taking a shower, I am scared, he might come back because it's already five now and the incident happened at around twelve. I don't have the strength to look at myself in the mirror. I hate myself. I feel disgusted. I hate myself that I didn't leave him earlier. I might never be able to forgive myself for that. Never.