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Bloody feet, bruises imprinted, tainted sheets

Recommended song: Beauty from pain – Superchick

https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=M-GPbYcTDbQ

Now that “everything” is cleared. Let´s start with the real deal.

3 days left for the meeting....

She wouldn´t leave before having HIS breakfast ready and the clothes HE would have to wear neatly ironed and hanging ready for a body to wear them. After that, she would take a 10 minute shower – without letting the water get warm, not even in winter – before she would hear HIM pound the door like he would do to her every afternoon after fetching Yeongam from kindergarten. After her brief shower she would walk with lifeless eyes towards her room.

She would get dressed up formally, even if she had no work, to cover her bruises. She would soullessly tie her hair into a perfect bun, ignoring the fact that it would be messily torn. After that, she applied light makeup, to cover scars but not to look like a fake doll. The type of girl she used to hate, even though now she was indifferent to them and their fake facades.

Everyday was the same, after and after again. A routine, a story with an end already written, expected. There was no thrill or adventure.

As always, HE would wake up after her and then carefully, almost as if the child in the crib was made of glass, HE would lightly tap him on the back, signalling the start of a new day. Even if it would be an exact replica of the day before.

They would sit together at the table and HE would play with the baby as she heated the coffee. Anyone would have said they were the perfect couple: HIM, a successful gynaecologist, her, an obedient wife who would stay at home to take care of the house and let´s not forget the perfect baby with HIS smile and her personality(which could surprisingly be judged by people even if the baby had not yet started to talk).

Nothing could be further from the cruel truth. Before HE started eating she would always find an excuse to not be at the table. Yet, this time, it was different. As she was about to pronounce the famous “I´ll go wash the dishes”. His powerful voice resonated throughout the whole room:

“Where do you think you are going?”

“I am sorry; if you want I will stay.”

   “I don´t want you to stay.”

“Then I will take my leave.”

The tension both individuals felt was so thick it could be cut with a knife, yet it was unnoticed by the peacefully eating baby right next to them.

Just when she was going to leave, HE forcefully sprung from his chair