AUGUST 2015

惠；

That day was a whirl for me. He told his manager to tell the press about my twisted arm. And after the manager and the dresser left he went into the kitchen - not forgetting to mention that it was the first time since our marriage or co-habiting that he actually took a step in. He took all the knives he could find and placed them inside the drawer before locking it.

Then he came out, grabbed me by my left wrist and pulled me into my room before pushing me on the bed. He opened my drawers one by one and took out everything he considered as sharp. He found my razor, then my letter knife, my penknife, and a small knife from the kitchen, a vegetable peeler, and many other tools. Each time I felt awful and wanted to back out from the door. Yet each time as I tried, he pulled me back by my good wrist on to the bed.

Then he opened that drawer, that drawer that I was so so ashamed of. The drawer that kept the letters models has professed their love for him. Those letters that models have cursed me in. Those letters that I had allowed to ruin me. The lace and then the lipstick stained shirt. He looked at it for a moment, biting his lips before scooping it all out of the drawer, throwing it into the bin.

Then he went to my toilet to bring out more tools he had deemed to be dangerous, throwing them down the chute.

He pulled me to the main door, all by my good wrist and tore the paper marking the areas of nothingness away. And all these were done while we were both silent.

And finally he pulled me back into the room and took my pillow before taking me into his room.

“Turn around,” He finally said and he ped the dress from my body before stripping it off me then he led me to his bed and had me s