The Burden of This Life

They don't usually go out on Sundays. Neither of them are really religious and he doesn't want to exhaust himself when he has work on the next day. Not that he still needed to work. Today is special though, so they made an exemption. He made her dressed nicely contrary to what she was accustomed to. The dress was a little too big for her, the blood red lipstick was itchy on her lips, and the high heels were a size bigger than her feet. But she didn't complain. The mall was jam-packed with people when they get there. No surprise there. It was Christmas season after all. But they were not here for Christmas shopping. He took her to the department store, where he had always taken her when they went out together in this particular day. Today would be the fourth year of this routine. Some salesladies were quite familiar with her face now. "This would look good on you," he said as he admired a black silken dress on a rack. It wasn't her size and it was showing too much skin. Still, she didn't say a word. Next were shoes to match the dress. A black stiletto with diamonds glued on the heels. Already, she could imagine the ache in her tendons once she wore those goddamn shoes for a little too long. After that, he took her to the cosmetics section of the store. A new set of expensive wine red lipstick that would sure trigger her allergies, another three bottles of an expensive rose perfume too strong for her nose. He was not fond of seeing women with make up but he liked those two things so she let him do what he wanted. He would be paying for everything anyway so she could not really complain. The blatant look of revulsion on the lady's face manning the cash register was impossible to escape her notice as he was paying for everything they had brought. She knew how it must've looked to them. Even she was repulsed if she were in their shoes. But she didn't want to ruin the day. It was their anniversary, after all. So she simply bent her head low with an excuse of checking her phone and pretended to be oblivious of the looks people were giving her. At noon, they went to a fast food chain to eat then early in the afternoon, both of them went into the movies. It was an adult film and she knew she shouldn't be there. It was because of him that she was allowed in. He felt his hands on her bare thighs when they got to the first steamy s*x scene. It was burning on her skin. When the movie was over, he kissed her hard on her mouth, tangling his tongue with hers. There were gasps from onlookers and some wounding words but she merely shut her eyes and pretended to be deaf. She wouldn't cry because she knew well that the worst was yet to come. Evening came. They went home to get ready for dinner. He had booked a reservation on their favorite restaurant. She put on the silk dress that revealed too much skin on her chest and legs and the make up and perfume, complete with the shoes. He ordered the chef's special for them and his favorite sauvignon. She had wished he'd get champagne but she was already aware of his tastes. She took her time downing her food, entertaining whatever he would say. The youth of the night was slowly dying away but she didn't want to go home—no. She shouldn't call it that. It was never a home in the first place. She hoped time would stand still even for an hour. She would do everything to stall it. But of course, everything had to come to an end. He drove them home. When she got out of the car, she made her way into the kitchen without waiting for him. She reached one of the hanging cabinets and frantically fumbled with the medicine kit. She took two pills each from two bottles and put them in her mouth. "Honey," she heard him walking to where she was. "What are you doing in there?" She poured water on a tall glass and handed it to him. There was a questioning look on his face but he took it anyway. Just a man letting his woman have her way before he had his way with her. When she was sure he had drunk a mouthful, she locked her lips on his mouth and force it open with her tongue, shoving in the tablets she had put in her mouth. Most nights, she simply had to let the tablets dissolve into the water to give it to him. Or when they're having soup for dinner, mince and mix it with the soup. But eating out tonight made it impossible so she had to do it this way. These were the last in the bottles. She had to work her ass again to buy another batch of the meds. It was not something she could afford every day. He tried to push her away but her grip would only tighten until she was sure he had taken in all of it. Only then did she step back. "Sorry, honey," she said, almost breathless. Without saying a word, he grabbed her again and this time kissed her harder than she did as he laid her down the table. She felt his hands roaming around her body beneath the silk of her dress. They were hot and wanting.  She stared at the ceiling as his hands found her delicate entrance and rubbed against the fabric of her panties. One hour. She had that much to reach the safety of the shores again. The clock ticked inside her mind as he busied himself preparing her. Obscene moans escaped his lips, complementing her body, each words coated with carnal lust as he pounded faster and faster. She blocked him out by distracting herself with anything she could think of, just to take her away from this reality. She thought about mermaids. And angels. Before thinking about the night of the fire, where the nightmares began. The minutes seemed to lag as she waited. She waited for that one hour mark. She waited for that relief. Then suddenly, she felt his movements stopped. And only then did she look up at him. "W-What have you done?" He asked in sheer horror and disgust as he looked down at her own daughter and at the sin laid upon that dining table. Shaking with dread, he took a step back. "W-What have you done to me?" She remained silent as she looked at him with cold eyes. She already knew what was coming next. Stepping further and further back, he slammed his back against the sink. "You... You witch," he whispered to himself. Then he looked at her, rage written in his eyes. "YOU WITCH! GET OUT OF MY SIGHT! GET OUT!" He reached for the first thing he could grab and hurled it at her. Ignoring the pain between her legs, she rolled off the table and fell to the floor. Without waiting for a moment, she made a run to her bedroom upstairs. The crash and break of objects in the kitchen echoed in the dark and empty house mingled by her father's sobbing. When she was in the safety of her room, she locked the door and pushed a table behind it before allowing herself to take a deep breath. "Welcome back, papa," she whispered as she listened to the sound of his crying. She didn't cry. Years and years of this had already made her numb. After peeling off the evening dress, she stepped inside the bathroom and showered. She bathed relentlessly, scrubbing herself like there was no tomorrow until she's sore. And honestly, she hoped there would no longer be. This burden was just too much to carry. She sat on the tub for a minute before her eyes landed on the pocket knife that had never left her sink ever since moving her. It looked especially promising tonight. Just one slit. Just one... and it will be over. There would be no tomorrow to survive from. No pain. No hurt. No more shame. No more suffering. No, she thought. She shook her head. I'm not going to be either of you, she stubbornly thought as she stepped out of the shower. After drying herself, he sat on the bed and stared at the picture frame she had laid face down on her bedside table. She didn't want to see it. But tonight was an exception. She lifted it from the table and looked at the photograph inside. It was a woman who looked so much like her, they could easily pass for twins. Except she was younger and the woman in the picture looked older, around her father's age. It was understandable why he would mistake her for her own mother. And it was also understandable to her why her mother had wanted to die. When she was a little, she asked her mother about the scars on her wrist. She smiled and asked, "Do you really want to know?" She nodded. Her mother smiled, "You'll know someday. And I hope you'll be happy enough not to follow." She couldn't understand then. Then one day, she found her crying with new scars and bruises. She asked her again. She tried to smile and said, "Someday, I hope you'll be wise enough to choose someone who'll love you like I do." And then there was the fire on the night of her parents' anniversary. She had asked her to buy candles in a nearby store. But when she came back, the house was already on fire, and her father was trying to rush inside as he screamed in anguish. Suicide, police told them. Then her papa lost his mind. "This is too much, mama," she whispered. Her anger bubbling on the surface. "This is too unfair." Only then did she let her tears fell. She put the frame back down and checked her phone for messages from her patrons. She had five tomorrow. One around her age, two adults, one teenage girl, and one woman. After replying to their message with the meeting place, she turned it off and went to sleep. But not before downing a couple of sleeping pills and a Prozac from the bottle on the table. Then she tried to sleep, wishing that tomorrow would never come again.