Toxic

Toxic - Yael Naim

She woke in the same way she had for the past two weeks. It was just before dawn and the nights were chilly, but she was burning hot. It had become her custom to carefully slip out of bed and dress quickly in the darkness before sneaking out of his room to find some cool quiet place to calm herself. The most difficult of these tasks was actually getting out of bed. Not because she was too tired or too comfortable, no. It was because he was all but plastered to the back of her, his strong arm around her waist, palm planted on the mattress just under her breasts. 

She shut her eyes briefly and took a cleansing breath. It slowed her heart only a little, but made her more focused on her goal: escape. Sometimes she wondered how she got herself into this situation, how everything snowballed until the only way to stop the avalanche was to make a drastic move. It was ultimately her choice; to make a deal with Azize, to save Azat, to marry Miran. It seemed like the lesser of the evils in the moment, but she neglected to think about all the repercussions. Like living in a house with his evil grandmother and his manipulative ex-wife. She told herself it was the price she was willing to pay to protect her family, but she had no idea how difficult it would really be. 

When they were married two weeks ago she had to give up everything; her home, her family, her belongings. Her family had no idea about the deal she made with Azize, so when she took Miran’s hand and his mother’s ring, they labeled her a traitor and hadn’t spoken to her since. She went to live at Aslanbey Mansion, staying in her husband’s room, the same one he once locked her in for days. He wasn’t locking her up now that they were married, but he did take precautions. He knew that she wasn’t exactly safe in his family’s home, so he gave her a key so she might come and go to his room as she pleased, able to have at least one safe space. 

It wasn’t so safe though. She hadn’t been attacked again, and she felt relatively comfortable there with all the new things he bought for her, clothes and medical books, soft sheets and fluffy pillows. But here in his bedroom she didn’t feel safe from her own feelings. It was true that they had a forced marriage, that he had yet to say he was sorry or that he loved her, and she had every reason to hate him. Still, she couldn’t deny her love for him, no more that she could control her body’s reaction to his. 

It was her habit to turn in early every night. She had taken to eating a small dinner in the kitchen as Esma Anna finished cooking the big meal, preferring the company of the gentle old woman over that of her husband’s venomous family. After clearing her dishes and occasionally helping Esma with finishing touches, she would climb the stairs to the bathroom. Washing her face and dressing for bed was one of her favorite parts of the day. Each step in her skincare routine was a step closer to sleep and the sweet escape it brought. She normally wore a thin nightgown with a dressing gown over it, and fuzzy white slippers on her feet. Miran had bought the set for her and as much as she would never admit it to him, she loved it. It was a luxury in an otherwise unluxurious environment. 

She shuffled back to his room, shower bag and towel in hand. She unlocked the door, then locked it behind her once more. As she hung her towel and put her things away she couldn’t help but miss him a little. He’d been avoiding her she knew. Since she blew up at him and told him off on their wedding night he’d been skittish around her. And she had to admit that she hurt him when in a fit of frustration she told him that she married him for Azat’s sake and not because she loved him. He slept outside that night, and she only felt a little bad. But even though he would avoid her most of the day, preferring to stay at work until late, he still came home, to his room, every night. 

The first time it happened she woke in a panic. She naively thought she had the only key, so when she woke up at dawn, tucked under the covers with him draped around her over them, she was frightened. Her desperation to remove herself from the situation led her to run away that morning, but now it had become their routine. He would return home late from work when she was already asleep and slip his shoes off near the door then curl up beside her. She in turn would wake up just before dawn to the feeling of his nose in her hair and his manhood pressed against her backside, then sneak out of the room before he could wake up or she could give in to temptation.