SOLITARY CONFINEMENT

IT CONTINUES....

SEPTEMBER 3RD, 2016.

“Madam, if you are so desperate to die, go jump off a bridge but do not waste my precious time while you are at it”, a phlegm-thickened voice and the blare of a loud, relentless horn pulled me out of my reverie as I slowly realised that I had swerved off of my lane, and was directly in front of a truck.

Muttering an apology, I quickly manoeuvred my sleek silver Toyota Land Cruiser out of harm’s way and steadied my steering wheel. Driving at a more coordinated pace, I let my thoughts take over once again. It’s been six long years since the distressing confrontation I had with my parents. Six years since my family last acknowledged my existence.

Not once did they even try to reach me. Over the years, I had heard from reliable sources that my parent’s marriage had suffered severe strains as my mother held my father responsible for the loss of her only children- My elder sister had earlier moved out of the house when she found out about my relationship with Lucas. That had been another nasty episode and her parting shots to me were “For the sake of the same blood flowing in our veins, I will forgive you for this abominable disrespect that you have committed against me. But I will never forgive you if anything happens to you at the hands of Lucas because I have warned you enough”.

I remember shouting back at her and accusing her of trying to taint Lucas’ image out of jealousy. She had irately moved all her belongings out of the house and relocated to an undisclosed location, threatening never to have anything to do with our parents again, claiming that they had always favoured me. My father had stoically reassured my mother that Janet will have a change of heart as time goes by, and return home.

Up till now, she has kept to her word. She is just as obstinate as my father. 

As I drove into the gates of our heavily guarded housing Estate, I absentmindedly tipped the three uniformed security guards with an amount I didn’t even bother to confirm, speeding down the cobbled road in a bid to get home before Lucas did.

Four years ago, I would have been speeding home with happy thoughts of what the rest of the day would hold for me and my darling Lucas. “If only wishes were horses”, I thought ruefully as I made a right turn at the junction of our house.

Reaching for the sleek device that controlled the magnificent black electronic gates securing our palatial mansion, I eased my car into the driveway, realising with a pang that Lucas’ blood-red Range Rover was already parked. My heart literally stopped beating at that moment. As if on cue, a sharp pain in my neck reminded me that I was still wearing a collar. No thanks to Lucas’ last physical ministration.

“Where the hell are you coming from?”, Lucas roared at me as he rose from where he sat at the fully stocked wine bar, nursing a glass of whatever he drinks these days on one hand and an exquisite Cuban cigar on the other hand.

“Honey, I went for the Kids’ open day at school”, I whispered, stuttering like a child caught with her hand down the cookie jar.

“And what did I tell you last night?” he hollered again, advancing towards me like an assassin.  His eyes were bloodshot, and a powdered substance had given him a faux moustache. He had been sniffing cocaine again. Tonight, I’m sure my pains will know no bounds.

“You said I had to inform you before I leave the house but you were still asleep, and I knew better than to wake you”, I said, hastily moving out of his way, with the pretext of going to remove my neck collar.

“Seeing that it no longer scares you to flout my rules”, he began, as he silently approached me again, violently grabbing my arm and shaking me vigorously as if I weighed nothing, “I will remind you of what happens when you go against my wishes”, he rasps as he flings his brandy glass towards the bar and extinguishes his cigarette on my arm, unbuckling his belt at the same time. The glass hits a hard surface on our beautifully wallpapered wall and shatters, the sound ringing in my fear scrambled brain.

I yelp like a wounded puppy as the burning cigar connects with my skin and sears it.  “Honey, please don’t”, I pleaded shakily as I walked backwards, hoping and praying to escape the promise of another physical t*****e.