The divorced Muslimah- part 4

DISCLAIMER: Some of the language used may be offensive to some readers.

It was nearing 4.30 a.m. I was exhausted, tired and lifeless. I had given up by now, I fought as much as I could in those last 3 hours but to no avail. I was physically drain , I am not quite sure how I felt mentally and  emotionally,  but it was better and maybe easier not to think about it.

It didn’t hurt anymore, I was past the pain; it didn’t bother me anymore; I’ve learnt to accept it, to submit to it and surrender. I knew it was not over yet, there was more to come, I could see it whenever he looked at me, I am not quite sure what he looks like anymore but it was not pretty, it was nothing to my liking, I stare into the eyes of this stranger, this stranger that was my husband.

‘How do you like it now?’ he asked. 

‘Is it fun?’ he carried on.

‘Come on then Bitch, I want to hear you scream. Come on!’

I felt the slap on my face, it didn’t hurt, it’s hard to express, I could feel it and yet I couldn’t. I knew he was constantly slapping my face  but I couldn’t feel the pain, maybe by that time, I was numb to it, my face was already scarred from the previous punches for the past 3 hours, I just couldn’t feel the initial physical pain I felt at first.

There he was, half-naked on top of me. My clothes had been pulled away, chucked on the floor and as I tried to protest earlier, he put his hands around my neck and tried to choke me. I didn’t want to give up. Yes, he had beat me like trash, he had insulted me like I was a nobody, but I still had this one thing left, that one thing I didn’t want to give to him. He has walked over my body, he has walked over my heart, but I was determined to not let him walk over my soul.

‘No!’ I shouted as he tried to undress me, I didn’t care anymore if the angels would curse me as he hadn’t neglected to remind me a number of times, not this time. He had taken away everything from me, and I was not going to give myself and my body and soul to him willingly. But as he carried on choking me, my scream became muffle until I couldn’t feel my breath anymore.

I don’t know if I passed out or maybe I just pretended I did; it made it easier, easier to take in and easier to think I never let it happen. I knew I was alive and I knew what was happening to me, yet I couldn’t move or talk, it was as if my soul had left my body. I lay still on the sofa; lifeless while he satisfied himself; but he wouldn’t let me go, not that easily.

‘I want to hear you, Bitch!’ he said as he lowered his face towards me.

‘I better hear you scream or you’ll pay for it,’ he said with this grin on his face.

Scream that’s all I wanted to do, but somehow I had lost my voice just like I had lost my identity. I couldn’t speak nor move, it was as if I was paralysed, my mind went blank and I closed my eyes as that’s all I could do, and as I did, I felt a sharp sensation on my right ear, my eyes shot open, as a form of punishment for not giving in to his sadistic will, he bit my ear. It was a different pain, one he hadn’t inflicted me with before. And out of nowhere I could hear a shrieking voice, it was my own! It wasn’t the physical pain that made me shriek but the realisation to what extent this person was enjoying inflicting pain on me.

This person who I thought I was going to spend the rest of my life with, this person who I believed was protector and well wisher, this very person had within the last 4 hours treated me worse than an animal. I had gone from being a wife to a whore, a wife to a punching bag and finally from an individual to nothing. As he finished off, I close my eyes again, all the battles were lost and I knew in that night I had lost a big part of myself. 

The only thing that was spared now was my life itself, and he was not ready to even let of my soulless life. The next thing I knew, I was holding a knife in my hand, I have no idea how it got between my fingers, but there it was, I was holding it. His hands were wrapped around mine, I felt his hands tightening around mine, but I wasn’t fighting him, I didn’t want the knife in my hand; I didn’t want to grab it and I had no intention of killing him.

‘I will say we had an argument and you grabbed the knife and tried to kill me and I fought you off, that’s how it happened,’ he said.

This is not real I thought, even then I didn’t want to believe it, this is just some sort of horror film and  nightmare and I will wake up anytime soon and nothing like this has ever happened. It’s not real I kept telling myself.

But it was! It was as real as everything else that happened that night. I was scared, that’s not how I wanted to die, I would prefer an instant death but this would not be an instant death, he has been enjoying torturing me and he will make sure that the torture goes on till in the end I thought.

I thought quickly, this man said he only married me as I had hole, his whole motive to marrying me was based on sex, and if I am to get out of this situation, that’s all I’ve got left. I had tried fighting him off, but he was too strong, I had tried hurting his feelings with the same abusive language he used towards me but that fail miserably as well. I had to give it a last shot.

‘I love you,’ I said, looking into his eyes. ‘I don’t understand what’s happening. Why are you doing this?’ I stared right into his eyes, I felt his grip loosen. Good, I thought. 

He gently put the knife down. I touched his cheek softly, ‘What’s wrong with us? why are we acting like this?’ I knew from reading a lot of psychology books to never place the blame on one person but rather on both so it doesn’t sound like an accusation. 

‘Let’s start all over,’ I said putting my head on his chest and this is how I became a prostitute for my husband, by selling myself to him, a man I didn’t love anymore.