In His Custody ✎ (MaNan)

✰ 29 - a step further

What are your predictions for what's going to happen based on the chapter title? :P

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Mukti

Undoing the tightly wound band that was wrapped around a limp bicep, I examined a light purple bruise on the inside of her elbow. "How did this happen?" I asked softly, tracing a circle around the internal wound.

My patient smiled sheepishly from her hospital bed and adjusted her glasses. "I think I might have bumped into the armrest while I napped."

I knew a wound of recklessness when I saw it, but that wasn't it. A ruthless attempt to cut off the blood supply in the frail amnesiac body that rested for months in intensive care after a series of physical assaults from her abusive partner. However given her medical condition, it was understandable that the woman had trouble remembering the occurrence.

After all, trauma sprouted more roots by remembering, not forgetting. Many years ago, someone I called my brother and I had similar experiences when being conditioned to obey, by the people society called our parents as they made us follow orders. Emphasising discipline.

"This is two days old at least." Mentally reminding myself to check the visitor log in the last 48 hours to make sure she was safe, I drew out her stash of medication and placed two tablets into her palm. She gulped them down with a glass of water.

As part of my routine, I gave her a sponge bath, changed her into a new scented gown, and massaged moisturiser on the lengths of her arms and legs, careful around the bruised bit while she sunk into her bed, relaxing and feeling serene. 

I washed my hands and turned to leave when I heard a weak, "Wait..." Mustering a smile, I approached the lady who gestured for me to occupy the seat I was previously on. "You seem upset,"

Shaking my head, I smiled unconvincingly. "I'm not..."

"I'm a parent... I can tell. What is wrong?" The word stirred something in me, as I straightened my back. How had such a softspoken caring soul been abandoned in this manner by her children? Had my mother asked a question of that sort, in that tone even once in my twenty-five years of existence, I would happily surrender every waking day to tending to her needs and care.

Sheltered partially by the fact that she was old and frail, partly due to her own children abandoning her, and partly by her memory loss at frequent intervals, I found it rather comforting to temporarily indulge in my problems and worries. "It's nothing really, I used to... know... this boy in school. He came to the hospital this week."

"And?"

"That's all."

"That does not explain your shaken state."

Eyes filling with tears, I quickly spun in my seat and brushed the drops away. Staring at an abstract mural on a cream wall, I shifted in my stool.

"He umm... cheated on me... with my mother." An unusual silence, contrasting the voices in my head, filled the room. More in control of myself, I turned around smiling around the remnants of my tears, "And wants me back now,"

"Oh no. No, that should be a non-negotiable,"

"Trust me, it is. I – He made me miserable."

"Then why are you worried?"

Prepared for that question for over half a decade, I blurted impulsively, "Because... he... made me feel alive."

"And you don't think you can feel that way with anyone else ever again." She added, studying my face with a lot of concentration and attention to detail. "I know you think otherwise but that is not a healthy relationship. When all we see around us is just turbulence, we tend to find the chaos comforting... stable... it keeps us sane, but that does not mean it's good."