Surprising life !
She feels happy after such a long time, her confusion gone and life a lot better.
She didn’t choose anyone. Between the two lovers stood her own life, her conscience and happiness.
If leaving one would hurt the other, then leaving the other would hurt the one.

She left them both.

Now she is a free bird, roaming the winter skies, breathing in the cool air, joyous, and in bliss.

I hurt them, she thinks. But I have no guilt. Because I deserve better. She smiles.

Somewhere towards the horizon she sees the shimmering glow of the rising sun.

It is a new day.

I blinked back the tears that were slowly forming in my eyes and felt the empty space beside where I lay. The gray sheets were not crumpled on that side. The chilling coldness I was feeling had nothing to do with the open windows of our room, well.. Not ours anymore, preferably mine.

I slowly closed my eyes.. I was just too tired. Images floated on my mind.. The hospital, doctors… his mom sobbing, the funeral. I could hear my own piercing screams growing fainter until they became muffled sobs.
I opened my eyes. The fact that my husband was no longer with me couldn’t just resist in my mind.

“Oh honey. Why’d you leave me?. I’m so lonely.”,  I whispered into the darkness….
“I’m so sorry sweetheart…. I never meant to leave you..”

I froze.

“Ray, is that you??” I whispered.. Thinking I might be half crazy or something., I sat up. Surely I couldn’t hear my dead husband talking to me ,could I?
“Of course its me darling. Who else would it be ?”…came his voice. So clear, so low.. So close by…
I was sure I was dreaming. This couldn’t be real. Ray was alive.
“I’m not alive, love. I’m just here with you.”  . Every nerve on my body was on its edges.
“How…how do you know what I am thinking?”, I stammered.
“Trust me I know. You don’t have to be afraid. How have you been doing sweetheart?”, his soft voice floated through my ears.
“How have I been doing? You wanna know”, I sobbed.. “Why don’t you just read my mind, tear open my heart and see it bleeding… why’d you go??”, I broke down, shuddering involuntarily.
“I’m sorry..”, he said once more. “You’re a brave girl darling, that’s why I loved you so much. You’ll be fine.”
Anger enraged through my mind engulfing all my senses. “You’re dead and you expect me to be fine. How can you even think that I can  ever be fine without you beside me? You were everything to me, everything I had ever wanted.. And..and ..all our dreams..I was supposed to have babies with you, grow old  with you…”

“We were just too young then, my love..”
“Yeah.. We were just too young then.. And what have we become now, old?? I’m just 23 Ray. I need you. So much..” tears were pouring from my eyes and everything seemed blurred.
“Where are you? Why cant I see you?”, I begged. “ I wanna see you Ray.”
“I am right with you. I’ll always be with you “..
“ No you’re not with me. You promised you’d never leave me Ray….”
“ I could never have prevented what happened that day dear..try to understand….if I had changed my courses, you’d not be here..safe”
“I’d have gone with you”, I started crying.

The hit and run accident was too painful for me to remember. We had just been entering the restaurant. Ray was parking the car and I was waiting for him.. Watching him…
I’d never realized what had happened… all I could see was Ray shouting and running towards me..pulling me away… the headlights of the other car had blinded me…the screech of the tires lasted for such a long time. I don’t even know how long.. until they blended with my own screams..calling out for him..
The time after just faded away.

I had drifted away again. I opened my eyes again. “Ray..”
“Right here sweetheart”..
“Stay with me ..”, I pleaded.
“ I cant”..
“Then come back.”
“I will not come back honey…I just came to say goodbye..”
“Please Ray.. don’t leave me.”
“I’m sorry.. I have to give you something darling,..”
I waited silently for him.

And as quietly as his breath he put his lips upon mine.. “Happy birthday sweetheart… I love you..”
And he was gone.
“I love you too Ray…” I whispered ..
I turned around to the space beside on the bed…but I could feel it wasn’t empty. Ray was right there..holding me….and I felt warmth creep up my skin… and I knew he would always be here besides me..holding my hand.. Within my heart.. Forever.

“Come back here you…”, his words slurred as he lunged forward towards my mom. She shrieked and cowered against the wall. He started hitting her and I stood there watching him, doing nothing.
My dad was a drunkard. And there was nothing Mom or I could do about him. Or any of his other habits.
Mom used to work as a cleaning lady in the biggest mansion at Park Avenue, until she was kicked out of the only job which could sustain us. Dad didn’t work. The only job he had was to spend my mother’s money on liquor and then come home and thrash us about.
I was helpless. There were times I felt that I could do something to help mom, so that we could have a decent meal someday. I even tried working at one of those cheap bars lined along the filthy alley where we lived. I was just 14, a blooming girl and I could see what men wanted from me. So I quit my job as a barmaid.
And there was no one to support us.
My mother’s cries brought me back to the present. Dad was shouting names at her and pulling her hair. She was bleeding and I just continued watching. I should have been pulling off my father but I couldn’t. I was much too selfish to let my father hurt me in any way.
He must have grown tired from beating her. He just stopped suddenly and turned around. I ducked down. If he saw me I’d be next. Muttering something he went out of the house.
I stood up and slowly moved towards my mother. The routine was always the same. She was lying on the floor covered with bruises and blood. I helped her up and she cried out in pain. Mom went to the only bed in our house and lay down weeping. I got some hot water and a cloth and started cleaning her wounds. I had become trained in these kind of stuffs.
“It will all be over mom. You’ll never have to suffer again.”, I whispered in my mother’s ears.
She looked up inquiring, not understanding what I said.
“I’m going to do something tomorrow. I can’t stand what he does to you.”, I told her.
“What will you do?”, she asked feebly.
“Oh just make sure he’s dead.”, I said without any emotion. I had learned to control my tears years ago.
My mother gasped.
“Don’t try to stop me mom. I want to end this all.”, I said coldly.
“But he’s your father,” she tried to protest.
“No, he’s not. He never was.”, I spoke.
I had never known what a father was. The feeling of loneliness overwhelmed me whenever I saw other children going out with their family, their fathers holding their hands and guiding them along, picking them up whenever they fell down… it was just a dream for me, an unfulfilled fantasy.
I left my mother to rest and went to a corner of the room and sat down. I could see my mom watching me and I met her eyes. She gave me a long look and turned away. I knew she wouldn’t stop me tomorrow.
As I started planning I could see a distant future, coming closer. A tomorrow where my mother and I would be free from the torments.
I curled up to sleep waiting.
The next day my father didn’t show up in the morning. I waited for him, going over and over about what I was about to do in my mind. Mom was asleep. We hadn’t eaten anything. There was no food in the house.
It was noon already. I took a knife from the small shelf and knelt over to pray. I knew I was sinning but I was also convinced that god would forgive me. I waited in silence, knowing that he’d be coming to touch my mother again.
But this time it would be his last.
Mom opened her eyes. “honey..”, she whispered.
“I’m here mom”, I went over to her.
“is he…?”,she said in a whimpering voice.
“he isn’t here yet.”, I told her.
Mom got up and climbed out of bed. Suddenly we heard a loud curse. It was my father , and he was drunk again.
I positioned myself behind the door.
He entered the room and sneered at my mom.
She had started to tremble and out of fear kept looking at me across my father, as if trying to ask what she was supposed to do.
My father grabbed her hand and took a step forward. And mom just wouldn’t stop looking at me.
I watched in despair and signaled her not to look at me. But she didn’t do so . That was when my father followed her gaze and turned back to stare at me right in the eyes.
And when he saw the knife in my hand he knew.
I had to do something quickly so I raised my hand and started to plunge the knife towards him.
I guess I should have known my father was quick. Too quick, infact. Years of business and drinking in the alleys had made him an expert in these things.
He caught my hand and twisted it around . I cried in pain and he took the knife from me.
“You gonna kill me huh?” , he leered. I could smell his musty breath against my face. He was dangerously close and I was scared. Really really scared…

[ To be Continued..]

She’s feeling torn, caught up between two lovers.
Not her wish, not even her want.
The one she wanted didn’t want her, and the one who did she couldn’t commit herself.

Ah. The killer has now become the victim.
She can’t choose. She loves them both.
Confused, and angry at herself for letting this happen.
I’m insane, she thinks.
Yes, she is.

She looks around. Light, beauty, remorse. Both love her. She loves one more.
They both want her. She too, wants them both.
But doesn’t understand, love cannot be shared, at least not between two lovers.

Sigh. Puzzled. Worried. Two with her. But still alone.

There was never a moment or any situation where I believed that I could do something. The feeling of insecurity and the fear of being judged at every step were so overwhelming that my mind went blank every time I stepped a foot outside my box.

My box, which was my comfort zone, the secured gates of my garden, the brass dead bolt on my front door. It was my home, my world and I didn’t know anything else beyond that.

I was afraid, yes- so afraid to step outside and venture the world. The painful incident was never on my mind, but it was digging through my soul, eating me alive. I still smiled at him whenever I saw him, and he smiled back. Yet, I knew he saw that fear in my eyes, and he knew I saw those dangerous fire in his eyes.

People asked my parents, why doesn’t she ever go out? They had no answer. But they gave me everything. I had a home tutor, a nice friendly lady, my three puppies, my books, my music. And I had my agony too.

I read about women violence in the newspapers, watched reports on the television. And I felt sorry for them. Sometimes I wanted to cry. In my dreams, I saw myself being a wonder- girl, rescuing and helping thousands of girls, helping them live their dreams. When I looked into the mirror, I saw the hero, the mentor, an inspiration for the world. And as I viewed in deeper, I saw the pain and the reluctance.

I felt sorry for the women. But I also realized that I was sorry for myself. I saw their pain, but refused to see my own. I was making those news of violence an excuse for what I was too weak to face. I was grieving for myself, and living everyday inside my box. Living, but still dying. Dying for what he did to me. For what was never my fault. For the fact that I had been molested as a child. For being not an inspiration, but one of the victims. One among countless other girls. Not being able to say a word, and choosing this fateful life.

It is my fault I guess. But that was the way I was brought up. The curse of being a girl.