Connections

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Ananya

India, Same day



As I come up for air, Becs still has her arm around me. She has tears running down her cheeks and I know that she wants to know more and wants to kill Rishi more than anything. So, I continue.

"I locked myself in the bathroom and sat down on the floor. Cried a lot. I was so scared, Becs. I didn't know if he would let me live or let me be inside the bathroom for a bit longer. I cried for all the things I have faced before. I cried for a long time. I've never seen so much anger in him before. And I thought that if he was going to kill me, then my last act of defiance would be to not make it easier for him. I don't even know how long I stayed in the bathroom, but I knew that if he did come for me, I wouldn't make it easy for him." I gave her a weak smile.

"Once the tears subsided and Rishi had still not come for me, I opened the door and heard him talking on the phone to his mother on the balcony. And.. I don't know where the thought or the courage came from. I took my purse, my phone, and dashed out the main door. I didn't stop running until I reached the main gate of our apartment complex. Our security noticed my bare feet, and gave me a look then looked behind me. He quickly opened the small gate and closed it behind me, still scanning behind me. I hadn't called the cab but I knew it would take about five minutes to get to the gate. I was freaking out, thinking about what I would do if Rishi came after me.

Suddenly the guard told me, call the cab at the side gate madam, nobody goes to that side. And he offered me his slippers so I could wear them. I was so overcome with emotion Becs. Here is a stranger offering to help me, after my own husband just used me as a punching bag. I didn't take his slippers, but I thanked him for his offer and made my way to the side gate. I couldn't even thank him properly though. He deserved to be blessed with all the light in the world for the kindness he showed me." I pause a bit to say that prayer once again. That guard deserved all the happiness in the world. "I went to the side gate and waited for the cab. I sat down under the tree and kept looking around for Rishi. As soon as the cab arrived, I dashed in and came straight here."

My tears have stopped flowing, so has Becca's. But her eyes are now full of rage and anger towards Rishi. She holds my hand and says "You are not going back Anya. You have suffered enough babe. So much. He's suppressed you emotionally, alienated you from everyone, demotivated you, abused you, raped you in the name of trying to conceive a child, clearly when you don't even want kids. He is a monster."

Listening to this, to someone else state everything that's been happening to me, is like a jolt to my gut. We read about such girls in books, you know, who are abused, and convince ourselves that it could never be us. We scoff at such women and think, God what a weak one, pull up your socks girl, leave him. We are so quick to pass judgments as if it's that easy to walk away. As if it's easy to even identify what abuse looks like. And here I find myself in the same position. And I cannot help but think that if this were a book, what would the readers think about me? Would they look at me with disgust and pass judgment like I've done? The thought sends a shudder down my spine. And it doesn't escape my attention that at such an important junction of life, I am thinking of books! I find it so funny that I start laughing.

Becca looked at me, concern in her eyes, and I laughed harder at that. We both read similar books. We have similar tastes. I know she will find it funny.

In between the laughter, and trying to breathe, I tell her "imagine if this was a book.......... Imagine the readers sneering at us... remember, we never liked those weak females.... Becs, if it was a book...... they would be disgusted at how weak I've been.....". And now I am crying. It's silly to hold your life standards to fictional books. And don't judge me for this. But my reality just turned 180 degrees and it turned stranger than any fiction I've read.

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