"The mind is beautiful because of its beautiful paradox. It uses itself to understand itself."
- Adam Elenbaas.
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Her eyes opened to the unknown world again. Her eyes were wide opened, yet, unclear. Cold sweat dripped down her spine. She was alone in a gothic- looking room filled with canvases.
A side filled with unpainted canvases, while the other side contained painted ones, the subjects all in gruesome poses, either illustrating death or destruction.
She sat in front of a canvas, one holding the brush, the other holding the palette. Her white, silky Victorian nightdress fluttered softly, complimenting her already pale skin, giving her an ethereal disposition.
Being unable to control her mind nor her body, she started painting. The painting seemed to follow the same pattern as the others in the room. Little by little, the gruesome details began to take form.
Suddenly, a door she didn't know was there creaked, then opened. A tall, silhouetted shadow appeared at her side, but her body remained out of her control.
The man whispered to her " Isabis darling, it's …long..." The man's distorted voice entered through her ears. Despite her trying to get a glimpse of his face, the face of the one whose grieving voice evoked familiarity, comfort and an emotion she couldn't name. She wanted to ask him who he was, but, she was unable to speak.
" Return! This place is not where you are meant to be ". He said in panic when they heard the rushed footsteps coming towards them. In an instant, she lost consciousness.
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She woke up again in her room at the penthouse. Her disoriented eyes were darting around wildly, trying hard to make sense of what she had just woken up from. It had felt too vivid to be a dream. She could still feel the man's whispers and the warmth he emitted. She looked at her hand only to see paint stains on her hand.
She tried understanding what had happened, she still didn't understand it, like an unsolved mystery.Suddenly, her husband returned home with anger and irritation simmering beneath his skin. He barely acknowledged her greeting before seizing her roughly and dragging her into the bedroom.
His words towards her were cold, sharp and heartless commands. They demanded compliance from her with no option for complaint. He ordered for her to strip.
When she did not undress quickly enough for him, he lost his temper. He yanked at her clothes, tearing them off her body, reducing her dignity to shreds- but it was no problem for her because that would be for one that still has her dignity intact. She was cold all over with no emotions nor protest, being used to it already.
He bound her hands and feet in an uncomfortable position. It left her powerless in a way that would make it impossible for her to fight him off.
Releasing his member from the shackles of his pants, he thrusted deep into her continuously, till she passed out. He pulled out, only to release his seeds on her body, another form of humiliation, one that isn't foreign to her.
Again and again, he went on till he was satisfied. And when it was over, he left her there to attend to his business, tired and numb. She lay still, long after he had left, the ropes biting into her skin which had left only a numbing sensation coupled with bruises left from the assault. She stood up knowing that it was not going to be the last time such thing would happen.
She left to her room, the familiar prison she had long grown accustomed to. The silence was peaceful and comforting. She entered the wash room to clean herself up as usual- scrubbing her skin raw, trying hard to erase his touch from her body. Her reflection in the bathroom mirror was familiar, yet, unknown. Her eyes hollow, her lips pursed. She decided to rest her eyes before dinner time.
She had barely closed her eyes when her phone rang again. She didn't even need to check who it was. The screen glowed, showing his title- Husband. Her fingers hovered over the receiver before she answered.
His voice traveled through the phone coldly, " My parents and siblings are coming over tonight. Make yourself presentable and useful. Also avoid causing me embarrassment, else you know what the consequences will be!" Before she could respond, the line had gone dead.
An unknown chill settled into her chest. His family despised her existence. Right from the beginning, they had made it clear to her through their words and actions that she isn't a member of their family. She was only twelve years old when she came to live with them because her dad told her that they were her mother's family members. Alas! It was a lie served to her in a platter of childhood innocence.
To them, she was only a transaction used to pay her father's debts and also a burden they had to feed. Those times before she got to know that she was a repayment, she had always wondered why they treated her differently from the rest of the children, why they couldn't have let her go when they knew that she was not wanted by them.
She had gotten used to her husband's maltreatment but never his family's cruelty. He was the kindest among them .
" You should be grateful we agreed to accept you when nobody else would ", His mother had once told her during one of her previous visits, her voice dripping with malice. " Remember your place because you're nothing but the payment in a dirty transaction made by your useless father ."
They never said her name. Only "Her" "She" "Hey" " slave" " whore" and what not. She herself never really remembered if she had a name.
She spent the day cleaning the house, scrubbing every non- existent stain, arranging every furniture pieces just the way they liked it despite knowing that it would never be noticed by them unless she makes a mistake.
When she finished, she arranged for dinner before she left to get dressed in apprehension for their visit.