MCreates

I have been hearing a lot of news about abused women and kids on the news recently. Sometimes, we wonder why they did not speak up sooner. Why they let it drag on for a long time. I guess we will never know the reason, but maybe if we somehow feel their pain, we will be more understanding and tolerant. In this In Their Shoes series, I wanted to share the pain experienced by different people in various situations, and hope that maybe, just maybe, if we know, if for a few,w moments we feel them and put on their shoes, we will be more compassionate and more tolerant towards the people we encounter. Cliche as it may be, everyone is fighting their own battles, and we won’t know how hard they have been fighting until we are in the same situation. I hope that this series puts us there… in their shoes. This one is for women suffering from abuse.

I braced myself as I waited for the next blow. My head is already spinning and I don’t have the strength to run or fight. Then it hit me, and I fell to the ground again. I didn’t dare to stand anymore. I just laid there. Helpless and weak. My ribs are probably broken and now it hurts even more as I feel his kicks. The hardness of his leather shoes on my thighs, my face, my ribs, my arms. My mind is screaming but no sound comes out of my bleeding mouth. I couldn’t cry, my tears dried out. I just stared blankly and saw nothing. It’s dark. Everything is dark. I waited for him to stop, but he kept going. Kicking, shouting curses. Will it ever end? Will he ever get tired? Then I saw his figure started to move away. Where is he going? Ah, he sat down. Probably tired of the cruelty that he has beset on me. He started talking, but my ear was buzzing, and I could not understand. Maybe it’s the same thing as before – it’s my fault. I made him angry. It is my fault that I am now half dead, or maybe I am dead, or maybe I should be dead for this to stop.

I closed my eyes. Maybe I can dream of a better time. Back when we were in love, and we were fine. I remember when we met. How he wooed me and swept me off my feet. I used to think he was the most sensitive man I have ever met. That he knows my needs and treats me like a princess. Being with him is like walking on a red carpet every day. Flowers, chocolates, romantic dinners, spontaneous trips. I was living in a dream until a waiter smiled at me too sweetly at a restaurant and I was accused of flirting with him. Until a male friend hugged me on my wedding day for a little too long. Until that day, I got home late because of heavy traffic, and I was accused of cheating that I had to quit my job to prove he was wrong. Until that day when I asked for money for groceries and was slapped for spending too much and not contributing. Maybe I splurged a little when I bought steak for our anniversary dinner or for the wine that I wanted to drink with him for a special night. I didn’t speak with him for a while after the first slap. It wasn’t right. The next day he showed up with flowers and the necklace that I have always wanted. Oh, we have the money for the necklace but I cannot spend money for food? He said he was sorry and it wouldn’t happen again. Probably the biggest lie I have ever heard but at that time, I believed it. I believed him. Then it happened over and over, almost like clockwork. The slightest irritation will lead to a slap, a kick, or, like right now, torment. I first thought of leaving but where will I go? Who would believe me? People think he is a decent man; he wouldn’t hurt a fly, they say. But I am human. He is capable of hurting a human being.

I stayed on the floor with my eyes closed. Maybe he will leave me alone when he sees that I am not moving. That he won’t start hitting me again. But he did. I just lay there, feeling the hardness of his shoes on my body. I don’t know where he hits me anymore. My body hurts everywhere, there’s no part of me that his shoes or his hands didn’t kick or hit or slap. It hurts so much that I lost consciousness. I don’t know when he stopped or if he stopped.

I woke up in a hospital bed. I heard my husband telling the doctor that I fell from the stairs. We have no stairs at home. It’s a bungalow but they don’t know that. Then, the doctor asked him to stay outside while he checked on me. He did not agree but he had no choice. You couldn’t have gotten this from falling from the stairs, the doctor told me when my husband went out. “Is your husband abusing you?” I just stared at her, thinking, you know? You see what he did? Tears started falling from my eyes but I couldn’t speak. But she knew and maybe, there’s hope.