The Sacrifice

Sacrifice

Typically, it is the guy who chases after the girl. In my case, it is a whole different story. The stark difference from a typical relationship also comes in when the male does not feel any sort of emotional attachment towards you. He could not care less if I was there or not. It was always me who went to meet him. However I was there anyway because he took notice of me then. My homework, lunch and plans for weekends were always with him. These were the ways I followed to make sure he would spend time with me.

He was perfect. In my eyes, he was. He was extremely charming and funny. He always had stories to tell when I was with him. Although he, miraculously, opened up to me, he was not the type to be very social with just about anyone. So, when he talked, it made me feel so good inside since I knew, for sure, that so many other girls would do just about anything to get his attention. It just made me feel better about myself to see that they could not.

He was ambitious and a big risk-taker. Even while studying in college, he helped out his dad by managing is company part time. The decisions he made for the company were very, very dangerous at times. Once he invested a large sum to a financial company which was also taking a huge risk in a project to increase its standard. There was a high possibility that the entire financial company could face bankruptcy if the project failed but he invested anyway. Against all better judgement, he did it. And the project somehow came through. It was a booming success. He was smart and foresighted like that.

He always seemed to be genuine. Whenever I was stressed or sad, he always seemed caring. "What's wrong? Tell me", he would say. He gave solutions to my problems. My life seemed to be better with him. This was why I could not stop myself. I was emotionally and mentally incapable of letting him go. However, after graduation, he disappeared. It took me months to track him. More months passed before I finally managed to find him. I sacrificed a lot of my time. I did not regret a single second of it.

After a few years, we were happily married. I had a stable job as a psychiatrist and he was a successful businessman. A few months into our relationship, Ryan called me over to his study to discuss something with me. What he said came to a shock to me. "I want you to quit your job". I stared at him unblinkingly. "You are serious", I finally realised. "When have I not been?" he asked. "I can't. I did not study hard to get a degree, just to be a housewife!" I exclaimed. "It's humiliating. I can afford the house expenses without you working. Some think that I'm not manly enough to handle the workload? So, resign", he ordered.

Unbelievable. We fought for days on end. "No, I won't quit my job. When did you start caring? You never cared. You can tell those "some" that your wife is working for herself and not for the household. Why are you even doing this?" I screamed. Ryan, who was furiously arranging his book back into his shelf, threw a book at me. It was a thick book. The blow was so strong that I staggered back and fell. I could feel my cheek starting to bruise. The corner of the book is sharp.

"Stop arguing with me on everything. The decision is final", he said. I threw my hands up. "So, I'm not going to have say in this decision? We are married, Ryan. You are not the boss of me. We are supposed to make decisions together. Get that through your thick head." I slammed the door on my way out.

Ice packs on the bruise seemed to not help much. "I tripped and hit on the side of the table", "No, I'm fine. Thank you for your concern", seemed to be something I often said to other co-workers. I only found solace in my office. Some other days, the bruises would be on my arms and legs. Those easily went unnoticed with a few long-sleeved shirts and the usual slacks. It did not stop for almost a month. But the news stopped everything. A news that made him, even him, stop raising his hands. After all, who would not stop when they come to know that their woman has a life growing inside of her?

On that day onwards, if Ryan grew furious, the tables, the desktop, the chairs would take the brunt of it. It was terrifying to watch things fly across the room. Knowing the fights had to stop for the sake of my child, I resigned from my job. The house became quiet after that.

Six months later, the cries of Meredith in the middle of the night started to tick him off. What surprising me was, he did not lash out. Closing the door behind me, he walked out to work his office. I took care of Meredith alone. It was not a burden. No, Meredith will never be a burden but it would have been nice if Ryan helped. I was exhausted.

It did not matter though. Things started acting up again after a few months. Ryan could not care less if the child was crying out of hunger or needed her Papa. I asked Ryan to feed her the milk I left for her on the table. Just for a day so that I can handle a situation that rose up regarding a client of mine when I was still working. When I came back home that night, I saw the bottle was left untouched.

I tolerated it all. I stopped relying on Ryan to take care of Meredith. It was just me and her for years. Ryan was there but was anything but a father to her. Occasionally, if he seemed stressed, I would take the brunt. I made sure Meredith was unreachable, that she never would have to be at the other end of her Papa's rage. Not for long though. I came home from grocery shopping and saw Meredith unconscious on the floor. She was just four. I saw red. In that moment, I knew what I had to do.

After a week, I visited Ryan in his office and told him I wanted something new in the house for New Year. "I'm planning on repainting the house. Are you okay with it?" I asked him sweetly. He raised an eyebrow. Being ignorant was not him. He knew I was up to something. For some unfathomable reason he decided to wait and see. He nodded to my request. I went back home with floor protection and furniture protection, just in case it got messy. I bought a few cans of paint and different types of brushes.

I made sure most of the surfaces were covered just before the time Ryan came back home. I put Meredith to bed early. And then I heard a car pulling up in our driveway. He stopped at the entrance and look at the house. He took it all in and stepped in. Without even a greeting, he marched straight to his office. After some time, he came back out and sat on the covered sofa with me and turned the TV on. I knew that was my queue to bring him coffee. I closed the book on decorations and went to the coffee maker and poured some coffee in a cup. I added a few pills and stirred it well. At the living room, i placed the cup on the table. I turned my gaze to him and stared for a few seconds before leaning in for a kiss. My last with him. He looked profoundly confused but drank his coffee. I went back to the dining room and sat there with my book. Even the sound of choking and strangled cough did not make me look up. A few minutes of struggle and silence ensued.

Walking into the living room, I stood to see the love of my life, lying unmoving on the floor. Blood was spilling out from his mouth. I grabbed the floor protector by the end and rolled him up. It took sometime but with the help of a wheeled table, I successfully dumped him at the back seat. Making sure the odd camping things were there, I drove up to the woods at the edge of the city. Deep in the woods, I dug up a large and deep hole. Bringing a ladder was a smart move on my part. I threw Ryan in and poured oil before setting him on fire. I changed my clothes and threw the dirty ones into the fire. Once he was burned beyond recognition, I covered up the hole.

I went back home. Washing the car, washing my clothes, removing the protections and burning things were things I did to keep my head clear. When I was sure all was done, I broke down crying. Trying to leave Ryan would have been a lost cause because he would track me down. I took a big risk falling in love with a psychopath, a bigger risk by chasing him down and marrying him. I still did not understand why I thought I could make him feel, when he was born unable to. I had no other choice. For the sake of Meredith's safety, I had to do it. This was purely a mother's sacrifice. It was a huge sacrifice.

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Hey guys, it's just a short story that i decided to write out of inspiration of well...wanting to murder someone. However  since it's against the law, i can't really do anything else other than imagine them being murdered. So, here it goes.

p.s. No, it is not an actual event that happened in my life, guys.

Love, Emy