The Desolate Domicile

As the clock struck twelve, hefty footsteps approached the derelict room I had to myself in the so-called 'matrimonial home'.

My heart pounding heavily, shriveling up my innards. As his nefarious hands touched my frail body, my muffled gasps pierced my ears. His insatiable thirst quenched, he left the room, my eyes burning with agony.

Perspiring profusely at my helplessness, tears rolling down my cheek...I wondered.

Am I an entity meant to satisfy his carnal desires. Am I nothing more than a 'tissue paper roll' which can be used and discarded as and when required?

Every single day he brandishes his belt, frightening me, smashing my fortitude. His thrashing, leading to excruciating pain have led to scars indelible on the sands of time. Is this what I'm meant for?

How can I forget the miserable day I was inebriated to kill a life thriving inside me, my repeated protestations all in vain? What gives him the right to decimate a blooming soul? Isn't this race no less than a butcher who does not shirk from claiming someone's life?

Heartless. Emotionless. Senseless...

As the days pass by shattered into pieces, I survive. Like a PHOENIX, pure and untamed, hoping for a rekindled hope to enlighten the lives of millions around me.