She watches me from the corner of her eye.
It’s intrusive, uncomfortable, condemning.
If I could be forgiven for a crime, she would make sure that I hang – till death.
I’m not surprised. It’s been like this from the beginning. A start that should have been ‘the end’. But my ignorance was a curse, her swollen pride was the guillotine. It snapped my head off, one too many times.
Though I roam headless, my shoulders still droop beneath the burden of subservience.
Why don’t I object? Shouldn’t I give her a taste of her own medicine?
She will retaliate. It’s certain. And her men will come to her rescue. They are loyal and brainless, influenced by a witch who chants spells and wreaks havoc.
It would imply doom and many days of suffering. My self-respect is a mere drop in an ocean of utter disregard. The waves swallow and spit me out. There’s pandemonium and abundant drama.
How I wish I could drown and move on to another dimension. A place where she would not exist. I would find safety that cuddles and comforts.
Yet nightmares never succumb to daydreams. It’s a shallow supposition.
She won’t leave me. I’ll never be rid of her. It’s a difficult and forced relation.
If it hadn’t been me, it would’ve been someone else. And if it hadn’t been her, there would be another, maybe even harsher.
We all are replaceable. But the dynamics remain intolerable.
I’m pregnant again. It’s the fourth time, but I haven’t held a baby in my arms yet.
They were expelled from my womb. Cut to pieces and disposed in some garbage bin.
She says girls aren’t her preference. A boy will be her first grandchild.
I let her oil my hair and feed me sugary treats.
She hums sweet tunes, but her eyes radiate warnings.
My mother-in-law won’t let me live in peace.
I wish death would be kinder and take me away.