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Breaking Free: Escaping the Cage of Love
墨書 Inktalez
Have you ever been hit by your husband?
If he says he loves you, is that love?
Ma Shan is my nominal husband.
He is handsome, tall, and has a respectable job.
He enjoys playing basketball, strumming the guitar, painting, and traveling.
He likes everything I like.
He dislikes nothing I hate.
We are so in sync, so sweet together.
I thought we would be together for a lifetime.
Until the first time he hit me.
Slaps, punches, kicks, the whip of a belt, dragging me by my hair across the floor...
He would hit me at night to prevent the sound of my cries from being heard by the neighbors, muffling me under the blankets as he beat me.
He would play symphonic music at full volume, the rhythm rising with the spasms of my body.
In my repeated agony and despair, I thought I was going to die from the beating.
I begged for mercy, saying I wanted to go to the hospital.
He didn’t take me to the hospital; instead, he waited until I recovered to continue hurting me.
He knelt before me, pleading for me not to leave.
“I just lost control for a moment; I really love you too much to hurt you.”
“Baby, please don’t go; I love you.”
He cried so heartbreakingly, tears streaming down his face in large droplets.
I used to love him too.
Looking at his swollen face, the split at the corner of his mouth, his blood-stained knees...
My heart ached with sorrow.
We used to be so good together; I couldn't believe he would keep hitting me. I chose to forgive him. I naively thought that everything would pass and that the future would be incredibly bright. I was wrong.
The second time he hit me, it was worse than the first. The third time, the fourth... there were so many that I lost count. My heart was completely shattered, and I asked him for a divorce.
"Divorce? Don't even think about it!" he shouted. "You are mine; even in death, you will be buried in our family grave!"
He confined me to our home, took away my communication devices, changed the locks, and installed cameras. He forced me to quit my job and monitored my calls with my parents. Whenever I showed any sign of fear, he would grip my neck and warn me: "If you dare leave me, I'll kill you and then myself; we'll go underground as a pair of lovebirds!"
I tried to escape, but he always caught me and beat me mercilessly. The more he hit me, the more experienced he became at inflicting pain without leaving visible marks. I lived in constant fear.
At first, I would resist. But eventually, I became like a pool of stagnant water, allowing him to toy with me however he pleased. I complied with him, tried to please him, and praised him. He said I was his dog and that I had to obey. I wagged my tail in submission.
As he continued to hit me less frequently, I realized that my compliance seemed to have an effect.
I thought he had finally returned to normal.
But one day, while I was cooking in the kitchen, he kept urging me, "Hurry up, why isn't it ready yet?"
"Do you want me to starve?"
"Are you deliberately dragging this out so I go hungry?"
I patiently explained, "It takes half an hour to steam, and there are still eight minutes left."
He kicked me in the stomach.
I curled up on the floor, pain causing my whole body to convulse.
He grabbed my hair and dragged me into the living room. "What kind of attitude is that?"
"How dare you talk back to me?"
"Do you believe I could kill you?"
I clutched his arm, forcing out a smile. "I didn't talk back. What have I done to upset you? Just tell me, and I'll change."
He released me with a cold snort. "That's more like it."
"Hurry up and finish cooking; I'm hungry."
I gritted my teeth against the pain and limped back to the kitchen to continue cooking.
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