Scars. Sometimes ever-lasting.

They lived in a lavish 2 BHK apartment. But, she was silently sitting in her favourite place, a corner of the kitchen. The doorbell rang. She quivered, a bit, and got up to open. She looked at the clock, and knew who was at the door. She looked at the scratches, the nail marks, on the door; next to the door knob. Reminisced the past. A tear flowed down her right cheek.

He entered and sat on the couch. Asked her to switch on the fan and get him a glass of water. There was a glass table set out next to the showcase. She kept the tray on it, in front of him, and looked at the crack on the glass. She wept, again. He remained oblivious – even to her silent cry, waiting to break. He wasn’t in a state to realise anything. He banged the glass on the table. The table crack widened. She wondered if he had come home drunk, like the other days. He burped, confirming her fear.
 

She readied herself for the night. ONE MORE NIGHT, she thought to herself.

He struggled, but eventually changed into his night dress. He shouted out, asking for dinner. She had cooked Baingan ka bharta, his favourite. The food was served, the moment he sat on the table. He tried out the bhaji with a piece of roti. Looked into thin air. Took one more bite. He flung the plate from the table. He didn’t like the bhaji.

She promptly picked up the plate that had landed at the door of the loo. The bharta and the rotis were scattered everywhere. She wiped the floor with a piece of cloth. She quietly walked into the kitchen. She was hungry. She ate the rotis with the leftover bhaji. She wept as she ate it. From the bedroom, he shouted out her name. She knew it was time to get laid. She had forgotten the last time he had made love to her. Love – An empty word for her, now.

It wasn’t simple for her, initially. Today, as she was walking towards the bedroom, she looked at the mirror and just smiled. Her fear and loathing guided her till the room. The tears still rolling down. She lived in a different world. A world full of well-founded fears, a world where nothing was simple. The same person, who she thinks she loves, caused her great pain.

As his hands spread all over her body, her mind searched for a reason that made hurt and love same sides of the coin. Her thought vanished, just as the sari left her body. There was no mildness in the act. The blouse came off rather easily. And, so were the other garments that covered her body. The more her body stiffened out of a reflexive defence, the more it hurt. He bit her with a vengeance, not even knowing what it was that he wished to avenge. Her inner wear lay helpless in the dim light, which was kissed occasionally by the curtains. The wind brought more chill to the ambience.

She wasn’t the only one who was getting ravished. She was a chaste lady; who had her dignity raped as well, every night.

There was a time when she liked spanking. It was fun for her. Not anymore. Not in the way which he gave her a few. He asked her to put in some life into the act. The questions of even trying were far beyond imagination for her. He never liked it when she lied down lifeless. He got infuriated. He hit her once. She reciprocated by simply taking it.

On luckier nights, her body parts would tell you the secret, if you would care enough to un-wrap her. But, not tonight. Tonight, her face was smeared with a swollen bluish softness. He had hit her across her face, barely missing her eye. It left a mark. Almost like a scratch. She looked down at the red splotch on the bed sheet and wondered if it was her’s or the vermillion from her head that dropped. Vermillion, she said to herself. She knew the scar would last long. Very long, she thought.