The pain was still there. Her whole body ached. So did her heart. Every time she would see the marks on her body, she would feel filthy. The pain was taking a toll on her.
She went back to the dressing table and pulled out the drawer. The three pills were still there. All three in different colours and shapes. Painkillers. She'd bought three different types just to find out which one worked best for her. Got them without a prescription. Money buys everything.
Except happiness.
He came home late at night, 1 a.m. to be precise. Drunk as usual. He yelled out for dinner. He wasted half of it. She silently cleaned the mess. He switched on the television and played it all full volume while she went to bed. He came back an hour later, and tried waking her up. He slapped her when she didn't wake up the first time. She was aware that it was time for him to feed on her. He tore off her night gown and made LUST to her. He stunk of cheap liquor. And then he fell asleep, while she wept bitterly. She wept pain…dismay…
He was a pain.
She opened her eyes only to see him lying in bed like a monster. His arms dirtied with the lust, his mind sickened of rape and his breath choked with stink. It was all suffocating for her. Tormenting, to be precise. She put his body aside, covered hers with the sheet and walked to the dressing table. She popped one of the pills. The pain barely subsided.
The next night he came home a little early. But he was drunk again. He had a CD in his hand. He pushed away the dinner she had set out and spread out a cheap bar on the dinner table. He played the CD. Hardcore Porn. He drooled. She went to bed in disgust. He followed her in an hour later. She pretended to be asleep when she noticed the wild look in his eyes. He sat himself on the bed and barked her an order to wake up. She pulled up the sheets. He slapped her and pulled her up. He tried on her what he saw on the CD. He was rough. He was violent. He hurt her. She writhed in pain.
He was a pain.
As always, when he was in his wild dreams of the tutorial he saw on the CD, she covered her bleeding body with the sheet again and walked to the dressing table. She popped another pill. This one worked slightly better than the one she had last night. But the pain still remained.
Tonight he came home pretty early. This time he wasn't drunk. He told her he needed 2 lakhs in cash, and that she should fetch it from her parents. She refused. He pulled out the thick leather belt that held his trousers and began whipping her. She screamed in pain. He didn't stop. She begged him to stop. He didn't.
She grabbed a half-empty whiskey bottle lying on the dinner table and smashed it on his temple. He dropped down. He wasn't moving. She grabbed another bottle and smashed it in his face. She loved the way his blood slowly travelled along his skin. That skin which had been anything but pure. She was in love with him…. But in love with the dead him!
She went to her dressing table, pulled out the drawer and picked up the last pill. She walked back to the still body, picked up a bottle of rum, popped the pill, and took a swig from the bottle. She swept the hair off her face.
The pain was gone...probably forever.
She'd finally found a Painkiller that worked.
--- Shruti aka Shane & CRD
