FLASHBACK
The man swung his arm heavily, and the lamp left his grip, flying towards the cowering woman.
The lamp hit the wall, missing her only by inches, and she whimpered with fear as the glass shattered around her.
Undeterred, the man walked towards her. He was dead drunk, and his breath was as stinky and bad as it could get. He gripped the woman's arm, and smacked her directly on the face.
"How dare you? How dare you speak to me in that manner?" he yelled, spit flying from his mouth and landing directly on her face.
The woman squirmed and tried to ease his grip on her arm, but her efforts were meager, and they proved futile.
"You think you can get away from me? I am your husband! I have every fucking right to discipline you when you pass your boundary. It is your duty as my wife to be obedient and submissive," he roared.
The woman's lips trembled as she tried to speak, blood dribbling from the corner of her lips into her tear stained blouse.
"Please. I'm sorry. Just let me go," she pleaded. Her words fell on deaf ears.
The man pushed her away roughly, and gestured towards the plush couch that was mere feet behind her.
"Get on the couch," he ordered.
The woman's face, which was already pale enough, became even paler. It was as though all the blood in her face had been drained, and she started to shake her frantically.
"No. No. No. Please don't. I'm sorry. I am so sorry. I will be as obedient and submissive as you want. Please, Please don't do that to me. Not tonight," she begged, her desperation seeping into her words.
Pleased at her discomfort and how scared she was, the man grinned, his teeth shining malevolently at her.
"Do not make me say it again. You know I don't like repeating myself. Get on the fucking couch," he spat at her, and with her heart sinking into the bowels of her stomach, the woman started to strip.
She didn't need to be told. This was not their first rodeo. She should be used to it.
But it was hard, almost impossible to get used to pain.
Pain was harder to forget, and almost impossible to pretend like it was nothing but an illusion.
Pain was constant. Nosy. It pushed across the boundaries of feelings and made itself known.
Pain was loud, but the woman's pain was particularly deafening.
But she pushed it down. She swallowed hard, knowing that she had no choice.
That all she had to do was did as she had always done.
When she was fully naked, the light hit her body, outlining all the hidden parts. Her back was a mess. Tiny lines of scars ran from her shoulder ridge all the way down, and it was so tiny that it would only take an observant eye to see the brutal marks the man had inflicted on her.
Of course, he always ensured that her marks were treated properly. Partly to avoid any form of infection, but mostly to protect his reputation and not give people things to talk about.
Resigned to her fate, the woman laid on the couch, her back facing the man. With a savage grin, the man walked out of the living room and came back almost immediately, a long, tiny whip wrapped around his arm.
"Remember the rules. Don't make a sound. Do not move from where you are. Close your eyes. If you do as much as flutter your eyelids, I'll increase your punishment. Is that clear?" he barked.
The woman nodded.
The man raised his whip. The woman held her breathe.
The whip landed on her back. The woman's world went black.
Her vision blurred as pain bloomed across her body. She bit her lip as an attempt not to cry out, and without giving her space to breathe, the man continued to whip her.
She bit on her lips so hard that her mouth was filled with blood, and she still didn't make a sound.
The man whipped and whipped. He enjoyed the way she held her body rigidly, unmoving, too afraid to make him more mad.
When the whipping was no longer fun, he stopped. The woman swallowed the thick wad of blood that had pooled in her mouth, hating herself for allowing this to happen to her, but hating her husband more.
Her husband was a sick son of a bitch, but she was helpless against him.
And he knew.
And he always, always took advantage of that fact.
And as much as she hated the man, she hated herself even more. The woman always wondered why and how she had gotten to this point. She, as always, blamed herself for not running away right from the start, when he first showed signs of violence.
Everyone thought they were a happy couple, that their private life was a happy one. Little did they know that the man always forced his wife to smile and act like she was smitten with him.
If she did as much as smile less broadly then he liked, he would punish her severely when it was remained just them.
They acted in love for the cameras, but the woman became nothing more than a husk day after day, night after night.
She slept poorly that night, and had to endure the pain for the following days.
When her back got healed, the man repeated the same pattern.
The woman was whipped.
Degraded.
Punished.
Sexually abused.
She was at the risk of getting beaten to death. Running away crossed her mind several times, but she had no where to go.
So she stayed.
And she suffered.
But one day, she got tired. The woman was sick and fucking tired of the endless circle, and she was ready to end it all.
She had no family or friend to run to. Hell, she had no money.
But that didn't matter to her anymore.
All she wanted was freedom.
And she was determined to get it.
She didn't care if she died while running. Anything was better than staying with the devil in form of her husband.
And her opportunity came.
The husband travelled, went on a businesses trip.
The woman was scared. He was supposed to leave for a week, and three days had passed already.
Before the woman could stop and convince herself that it was a terrible idea to run, she was already doing it.
She took nothing.
All she had was her car, and as she drove away from the house, her heart pounded with fear.
The woman had no where else to go, but she knew she had to run far away. Hide in a place where the man wouldn't be able to find her.
Because if he found her right after she ran away, the woman knew he was going to probably beat her to death.
So she ran.
And she didn't look back.