Submitting

Mean

Black for men and red for women.

A strange norm that has been followed universally, which distinctively showcased the supposed beauty of those two genders in settings that are anything but casual and loud. It defined the event more, and addressed the general agenda of how the night is going to progress.

I looked down at myself, wondering if I was wearing or had been made to wear anything like that, but to my relief I was still in my comfortable sweatshirt and sweatpants in grey. Hair still oily and dirty from the several days of unwashed heaviness, skin dry, lips cracked, pale.

Such a contrast to the rest of the people in the room as they gathered round the table in their neat and polished attire, which can be achieved only through practiced care. It made sense now as I understood why I was let to be alone in my room for such a long time whereas Dimitri almost always loomed like a shadow other times.

"I am so excited!" Ivan shrieked like a little girl but in a masculine sort of way as he pulled the chair out for Liza to help her in and then sat down himself with his eyes looking at me with anticipation. Did he expect me to praise him? For whatever he had done tonight?

There was no doubt that Ivan was the one who came up with all this dramatic travesty.

I was pushed further into the room until I was right in front of the table, thankfully not made to sit in the chair as any movement, even if forced and not initiated by me, hurt still. Not physically but like a dull ache inside my head that protested against my being. As did this sudden pop up of unnecessary interaction with these people.

"So am I." Liza looked at him and smiled as she placed her hand on top of his while the other rested on her belly bump that was way too noticeable to be ignored even in the dim candlelight. Somehow the silk red dress with a sweetheart neckline, she wore, made it more prominent.

What was happening? Who was she? I doubted, for the millionth time, if it was Liza at all. Moreover, I was convinced that if I looked at her long enough, then perhaps her face would change as well as it already did slightly with the baby growing inside her. But what bothered me more was the behavioural changes rather the exterior. As if she had rebirthed or maybe had some sort of procedure done on her to shift her into this...person who was not Liza at all.

Choosing Ivan over me.

This was not Liza at all.

"Let's eat, shall we?" Dimitri suggested as he removed the cloche on the table in front of me, revealing a perfectly cooked steak with garnish and fumes rising from it in heated puffs. The same meal was served for the rest three as they grabbed their forks and started digging in.

"Mhmmm this steak is impeccable. I knew it was the right decision to fall in love with it the moment we met. Cooking was it was so easy as well. No doubt we were made for each other." His words were taunting, teasing. I knew he was trying to poke me in a certain way which was not hard to point out by anyone present in the room but not that obvious either to point fingers at him.

"Eat." The order came from my left as Dimitri kept his eyes on the chunk of steak on his fork before putting it in his mouth and chewing it. I think he knew that I would definitely not abide with his wishes, but yet he tried.

"You know what? We should all watch a movie after this." Liza spoke while she chewed her food and pointed her fork at no one particular while saying so.

I couldn't keep the hysterical laughter inside me.

The room felt awfully quiet while I laughed until there were tears in my eyes. Not from the laughter itself, but the cruel irony of the reality that I was being forced into.

"A happy fucking family, is that what we are, Liza? Does this make you happy?" it's easier to be angry than sad.

She stopped chewing at looked down at her plate like a sad puppy she was. A victim. That she was indeed, but not the kind that detested being one. She liked being the victim and accepted it wholeheartedly. Like she was a part of them and thought she got to sit with them in the upper stall, whereas I was still down at the bottom being controlled like a puppet. Only if she realized that she was not what she thought she was.

Her silence infuriated me more as I lifted my hand for what seemed like the first time and threw the champaign glass full of the aforesaid drink on the wall behind Liza.

Chairs scraped as Ivan stood up first with anger boiling in his eyes, while Dimitri followed suit. He was quick to take action before Ivan did anything, as his hands reached into the pocket at the back of the wheelchair and produced two zip ties. I always thought that the pocket was empty and useless because why would they put anything at all at my arm's reach. But I was wrong.

I didn't resist at all as my hands were tied around the handles. My eyes only looking at Liza, who pretended that I was not there at all. She completely ignored my existence as she looked down at her plate, picked up the fork with steak on it, and chewed it in her mouth. She eluded the whole notion of right and wrong. As she was drugged to believe otherwise. My lifeless self meant nothing to her, and she chose Ivan, Dimitri and the baby before me. The baby that had been forced onto her. Against her will. Of that I was sure.

I meant nothing to her any more.

So after all this, should she mean something to me?