She lay still, as he finished his business on top of her. She closed her eyes to let out a lone tear as she heard the door slam shut. Slowly, she woke up and gathered her clothes strewn around. Haphazardly dressed she walked to the bathroom. She gathered some water in her palms and splashed it over her face and then looked into the mirror. It was not a familiar face, it was that of a stranger. Her lips bled from his bite, there were bruises on her cheeks and her left eye was swollen. Her body ached to the bone. She felt a bout of dizziness and spat into the basin. The blood caused random shaped dots all over the white background. She looked back at the mirror and adjusted her saree, feeling naked.
He had come home drunk the last night and had picked up a fight as usual. She had tried her best in comforting him, but he was not ready to listen. He had beat her up mercilessly, before stripping and pouncing on her. And like all the other million nights, she lay helpless giving in to his desires.
The stranger in the mirror had now become familiar. She saw the face every day. She could leave, but she loved him. In spite of all the chaos, he somehow sorted her life. Slowly, she had begun to find comfort in the pain.
She heard the door click open, he was back. She looked at him with all the love she had, thinking all the while that how she hated herself for loving him.
This post is a part of Write Over the Weekend, an initiative for Indian Bloggers by BlogAdda.