“Your husband is evil, he is poisoning your body and mind”, her mother told her. She listened to her go on and on, ranting about all the evil things he did to her daughter. Her silence seemed to implore her mother to carry on, as if she gave her mother the permission to do this by not speaking.
Her mother’s words resonated with her. Late that night, she opened her diary, the solitary thing that had earned her trust in the recent past. Writing an entry in the diary was like salvation for her – it gave her silence a voice, her thoughtlessness a thought and her monochromaticity a hue. Of late, an entry in the diary for her was the equivalent of a child wailing his throat off out of frustration, it was as much a relieving force as an exercise in futility. All the memories came rushing to her mind like a flood, the pain he caused in her life, the feeling of being used and the belated realization that marrying her was only a way for him in his quest for professional glory in her father’s company where he worked. As her pen moved from one line to the next, she was wiping off the tears that streamed down from her eyes in a constant torrent. Every part of her body was shaking, and the tears was a way for her body to physically discharge the negative energy bundled up within her as much as the diary writing provided the same for her aggrieved mind.
She wished she had a chance to rewind the clock and start over again. To undo the mistakes in life that she committed when she was blinded in her devotion to her husband. To ease the pain she caused her mother when she decided to spend her life with him. And a ton of other things. Travelling back in time was not an option, the only way in front of her was to face it shoulders up and move forward.
She closed her diary, opened the drawer and tucked it in. Then, her eyes went to the sheaf of papers on the table that were fluttering in the light wind coming in through the window in her bedroom. She didn’t need to read them anymore, she could recite verbatim the contents of that bundle of papers that came in as a registered post to her home a little over two weeks ago. With a sigh, she pushed the sheaf of papers closed to her, flipped to the last page and signed under where her name was indicated.
She closed her pen, switched off the night lamp. And it is when the darkness that surrounded her, she felt to open the Bible on her desk and read a bit. She turned the night lamp back on, got her Bible. And randomly opened a page. And she read aloud what she saw, “And ye shall know the truth and truth shall set you free.”