For those whose senses died, and those whose body followed suit,
What kills is not on the battlefield, its lies right in our homes.
Sophie just lay there, immobile on the bed and allowed Ken to do whatever he pleased with her body. She so wasn’t in the mood for sex, but what could she do? It was his conjugal right, and she cannot deprive him of it. “Tell him,” her mind whispered to her, but she quickly dispelled the thought. The last time she had tried giving a hint by her actions, he…She shut her eyes deeply, willing herself not to remember. But the images, vivid ones flooded her mind. Her husband had thrown her on the floor, ripped her clothes off, and after series of hurtful jabs and smacks, availed himself of his sexual lust despite all the signs which signified the fact that she wasn’t ready for the penile invasion.
He was doing it again now. The last time he raped her and she struggled, she couldn’t walk for days and bruises were all over her vagina, she had to seek medical attention. Of course, she lied that she had them as a result of roughly fixing her tampons. So she lay there, tears running down her eyes, but they didn’t stay on her cheek for long, as her husband kissed her and licked up her tears.
It was not the first time. But, tonight’s incidence stirred a well of brooding water in Sophie. The water twirled and swirled until it matched the pace of an erupting volcano. She was no longer in control of her mind, and it felt good to be in that state. Calmly, she ran her hands through her hair, searching, until she found it. With all the strength she could muster, and with a crazy banshee scream she plunged deep. She watched his eyes go round with shock, until he collapsed right atop her.
Sophie did not move, all she did was take labored heaves of breath.
Occasionally, her husband’s head lifted along with her chest when she breathes deep. She closed her eyes and went to sleep. And that was how the police found her, sleeping, with her husband’s lifeless body astride her, a metal hair pin stuck to his neck. At first, they thought that she was dead too, for how can one person spill that much blood? It was too much. What baffled the Inspector was Sophie’s calm smile, looking back at her husband’s dead body whilst being whisked away. It gave him the chills.
Her lawyer pled insanity, but Sophie had never felt more sane. The judge accepted, regardless of provocation, the actions of the accused, after the murder proved that she indeed has had a “visitation of God.” He pitifully ordered her to be incarcerated, with close observation in a psychiatric hospital. She felt serenely safe on this brink of insanity. Every time, whenever she is not being attended to by the doctor, she lays in that same position, with her back, flat on the bed, and her two hands cradling her head. The nurses saw it as a peaceful state; she knew it was a precautionary one. Just in case the ghost of her husband comes back, she routinely strokes the pin with which she holds her hair.
Bellenoireige is a Nigerian law student at the University of Ibadan. She is a short story writer, poet, and performance poet. Her poems have been featured in the anthologies Epistle of Lies and Uites Create.