An iridescent beam flickered through the morning, onto the glass panes of a rather expansive window. Silken drapes, fringed with lace, rippled in the refreshing cool breeze. It was a beautiful morning, and the inhabitants of the mansion seemed quite at joy. The lady who lay on a copiously decorated king-sized bed, opened her eyes to an ethereal view of outside. The entire meadow basked in the warm morning sun, blessing the delicate daisies and pansies with a scintillating mien. It soothed her mind and allowed for fresh thoughts to enter. It was the perfect definition of therapy.
Take the rope.
She lifted up her hands to recite the morning prayers and hopped off her bed with a smile. Her silk robe lay in a puddle on the cream wooden floor. She stepped into a basic, black, loose dress before twisting folds of beautiful brunette curls into a thick bun.
Her mother had always taught her, 'simplicity is the way to success.' And she truly lived by it. She hadn't any need to show people how rich she was, how many yachts and jets her father owned. Or how she had could just run away to another lake house her father owned several hours away in Ankara, if she ever got fed up with life. The only thing that mattered to her was helping lives. A dream she'd always wanted to pursue as a small child. In fact, her mother showed such a keen interest in her dream that she helped her to achieve it.
But that was in the past.
Her mother was no longer with her and she had to do everything herself. She had to believe in herself although her mind differed. She had to talk to herself and encourage herself. Heck, she had to even support herself in every way! There was no one there to show her such support and love her mother did. The only friend she had was Allah. He was always there. Listening to every prayer that came true and guiding her when she felt desperate and alone. It was Him. That's all she needed.
She wrapped a cotton scarf loosely around her head before heading out into the dining room. Her father was already sat, relaxed at the far end of the table. He observed her sternly at which seat she chose and how she would peer at each passing servant who placed dishes of all different delicacies on the table.
'Hayat.' A voice so solid and grim called and she knew exactly what was coming next.
'Yes, sir.' She responded with pure obedience.
'Why are you late?' His gaze was stony and held no such compassion or regard for that matter.
'I'm sorry, sir. It won't happen again.' Although, she was only three minutes late to be precise.
Suddenly her appetite was gone and she felt a waft of sadness surge her soul. She hated how much her father had changed since mother passed away. It was hard for Hayat too, no doubt. But it was if he was living when she was around. Without her, his heart was stone. He seemed to lock up all forms of love and sympathy, replacing them with distrust and severity.
'Why must you always be selfish?' His voice cut the thin cord she had with any line of hope that maybe he'd be proud of her. For once.
Take the rope.
'You constantly refuse to give up that low-life job you have. You have more than enough provision. Why must you degrade us in front of the people?' She didn't have a chance to speak up and defend her choices. Instead her fingers tapped hastily onto her knee. She was itching to get away from there as soon as possible.
'I'm ashamed to have a daughter like you.'
Her head shot up at what she thought was her own father's words. Surely, he didn't just say that. Surely, he had some ounce of love for her. She didn't allow her heart to give in. It pained her to cry in front of her father, knowing that he wouldn't care. Knowing that she would just be labelled as a weak soul.
Take the rope.
'Will you excuse me?' She lowered her eyes and stood up, awaiting an affirmation but the only sound that came out was a harsh grunt.
She glanced up hesitantly with teary eyes once more, only to see a different person.
Her father had died a long time ago.
He died with her mother.
***
'Would you like something else to eat?' Hayat peered down at the untouched food as soon as she walked into the room.
'I don't want anything to eat.' The patient lay with his face turned towards the window. He was exhausted with the constant injections and force feeding at breakfast, he seemed to have given up. He sighed and turned towards the nurse that had entered.
It was her.
His eyes lit up at once and he fought the urge to look anywhere but in those beautiful set of black doe eyes.
She noticed him shuffle uncomfortably and let out a minuscule sigh.
'Starving yourself will do you nothing but harm. I'm afraid I'll have to feed you then.'
He couldn't help but shake his head in refusal only to be fed with her hands. He enjoyed her company even though she never spoke a word to him other than the constant asking if he's okay and other formalities. For some reason, his sadness seemed to alleviate when he first laid eyes on her as he gained consciousness. Even though, it pained him to think he was still alive, she bought him this profound happiness. She was just different.
'How were you at breakfast time?' She asked sincerely, observing the bandages that fit securely around his chest.
'The lady was awful. She didn't even know how to feed me, she spilt the milk everywhere!' His mind seemed to retract those bitter memories as he grimaced.
'That's because you refuse to eat!' She laughed ever so lightly, unknowing of the effect it had just had on him.
His ears were blessed with a beautiful symphony which was her laugh. He seemed to be bedazzled with her every word and action.
She looked away as she fed him, only glancing to aim directly in his mouth that was opened in sheer submission.
Her mind still buzzed with questions from that day that she was ready to ask him when he was well enough to answer. Now was the time.
'May I ask, Mr. Adam, why you were driving at such high speed?' She looked down as she asked the question. Both because she felt a tad bit intrusive and a bit uncomfortable. She only just started to look after him. Maybe he wouldn't even answer at all.
Adam turned to the window once again, and took a long, deep breathe.
'Because I wanted to kill myself.'
YOU ARE READING
Last Sacrifice | #Wattys2018
Romance'I can't stop.' His voice was husky and his breath, ragged. He backed her up against the wall, the warmth of his breath penetrating her ears and his lips lightly brushing against the soft skin of her earlobe. She closed her eyes, sucking in her bo...
