COERCED TO BE HIS

chapter 32

"Ayeleen get into your senses! What are you doing? Stop it!" He shouted while took cautious steps towards her.

"I'm not a whore Umer! I'm not! Don't come near me!" She said through her heavy tears.

He didn't know what else to do. He wanted to snatch the blade from her but she was so miserable, that he was afraid that his sudden action might cause him more trouble.

"Don't come near me! I hate you! I'm not your whore!" She said while closing her eyes and she was ready to slice her wrist through it but before it a strong hand pushed her hand away so hard that the blade fell from her hand not before marking her wrist with a cut, but not deep.

The blood appeared on the skin as she watched in horror, Umer's face.

"Are you sick?" He shouted in her face in rage.

She started crying like a little kid and sat on the floor, hugging her knees to her chest.

"I'm not your whore" she whispered merely to herself.

He watched her, in dejected state. Why she was taking her own life? He thought.
You called her a whore, his instincts replied back.
She was crying continuously with hiccups. The blood dripped on to the floor. He picked up the blade from the floor and discarded it in the bin.

He sat down on her level and looked at her closely.

"I'm sorry" he said while sliding the hair aside, which covered her face.

She didn't paid attention and continued crying.

He himself don't know, from where he got the idea and courage but he pulled her into a hug. He placed her head on his chest and enclosed her in his warm embrace. While he gently tapped on her back.

"I'm sorry Ayeleen, I shouldn't have called you that." He said while his nostrils filled with the lavender fragrance of her hair.

His arms, enclosing her body not only gave her warmth but comfort too. She came to her senses and her little mind processed his words. He apologized.

"I'm not a whore Umer" she said meekly against his chest.

"No you're not! I'm sorry for calling you that. You're my wife" he said while convincing her and kissing her head.

She gripped his shirt tightly and lean into his chest, feeling his manly ardour. For the first time it felt so comfortable to be with him. His congenial and cozy embrace gave sort of comfort and she snugged more, letting her body relax in him.

He looked at her wrist, from which continuously the blood was dripping. He got up and fetch the aid box at once.

He sat down beside her and cleaned her wound with the alcohol. Then he nicely bandaged it. While she just looked down at her hand.

The pain was surreal and she couldn't feel it. The fire burning inside was far more fiery.
But her mind he kept telling her, he apologized.
She didn't know if she should accept his apology, how many wrong things he has already done? What's with the apology now?
But that word really stabbed her. How  dare he call her like that?

Then he got up and picked up the aid box to place it back on the bathroom cabinet. He came back and held out his hand towards her, who was sitting on the floor in deep thinking and face leaned down.
She looked at his hand and then looked at him.

"Take my hand and get up" he stated while looking at her depressed state.

No choice left she placed her hand in his and got up. He took her to the bed and made her lie. She obediently laid down and he pulled the covers up her chest. Then he laid down beside her.
She turned her back on him and let the tears fall freely which brimmed in her eyes.