mystery_flame

PAINKILLER

I just got my release papers after spending seven years in prison. You might all be wondering why I got in prison. It's that simple. I killed a man for raping me. Now, most people and the court didn't see what I did as self defence because that man was my husband. They thought me cruel and heartless to murder a man who I was supposed to love. I don't blame them because they were actually right but they did not know the full story behind my charade of a marriage. I only blame my parents for selling me off and getting me married against my will. I had just turned eighteen and I wanted to enjoy my adulthood but they ruined my plans. They got me married and I spent the other years in prison. 

I was the only child of my parents and things were not so good for us. I was willing to not go to school in order to help them hustle and provide. But they thought marrying me off would solve our financial needs. I begged and pleaded but they wouldn't listen. And after three months of marriage, I turned a murderer. 

I was willing to leave all that in the past now and start anew. But I couldn't help but wonder if my past was willing to leave me and let me start anew. One way or the other, I knew, that my past was gonna come haunt me. And I don't know if I was prepared or not yet. 

"Victoria Williams?" a female police officer asked me when I got to the counter. 

"Yes ma'am," I replied and nodded. 

I watched her fill out a book and let me sign. She gave me some new clothes and a wallet. Another police officer unlocked my handcuffs and showed me a room to change in. 

I changed quickly and observed myself in a mirror. I had changed a whole lot. All my fat was gone and was replaced by thin skin,  jutting bones and sunken eyes. The new clothes made me presentable to the world I was going to meet and that was satisfactory. I walked out the changing room to the waiting room to be greeted by a small girl who ran and hugged me. 

"Mummy," she said.

MY PAINKILLER

When arlan Bardot knelt before me, his eyes red and hair disheveled, it took all I had in me not to hug him right and kiss him, apologize for putting him through so much for the last days.

I did not, I did not hug him, instead my hands tightened on the arms of my wheelchair as I glared at him, silently noting Matt lead Enola out of the hospital.

Arlan knelt before me and slowly, very slowly held my hands in his big, warm ones, I could not find it in me to pull away or do anything but enjoy the feel of his hands against mine, the few of him.

It had been a really hard, really depressing one week without arlan but I could not show it.

No matter how much I loved him, how much I loved him even when we were little, too much damage had been done to me for me to just forget it all ever happened.

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