Justice

by Samatha Jayne

1.

I glanced at the pages. No words, just blurred letters. No meanings. No life. I could relate to the pages with ease. My existence was as meaningless as a book read a thousand times. Every secret I held had eventually been discovered. Every thought that ran around in my mind had tired and told itself to the one who swore he would help. He had, in time, bored of me. I was tossed aside like the book I could now read with my eyes closed. So vivid, the letters. So certain. But still there were no words.

The room had grown stuffy. The window had been closed because of the many insects that had found their way inside at night. My father told me they carried disease. I had laughed at him when he said that. I had informed him the only thing carrying disease was me. The insects were free, I was merely a prisoner. A prisoner who's crime had been the mistake of timing. That mistake had ruined my life and now my father insisted on ruining it further.

Optimism was something I firmly believed in, but after the news today there wasn't any point in even pretending. Not only would I be living in a permanently seated position but I would also be bound to a man who I had never even met.

My father is Indian and a great believer in the Muslim religion. This meant I would have to endure an arranged marriage, even though my mother had been English and a Christian. Apparently I had no right to a choice. I was to meet Vicram Rao tonight, and had to be appealing. I would be a housewife. Loving and caring, and despite of my condition would never burden him in any way. It was a life I was dreading.

The door to my room swung open revealing a small chubby woman with an apron wrapped around her waist. The stereotypical maid. Kind, generous and caring. I couldn't help thinking, at times such as this, that she was the only one who cared about me.

She was known to me as Sandy, although that wasn't her real name. She had just taken a liking to it after seeing "Greece" on show in the West End. She'd told me she looked like Sandy when she was younger. I couldn't imagine it myself. She was only in her mid thirties as it was, and photographs of her earlier life she'd shown me hadn't resembled Sandy at all. She had the same coloured hair but her figure never seemed to fit the character, and she wasn't all that innocent.

"All ready to meet your future husband?" She asked in her usual cheery tone. I hung my head and stared at my crippled legs. Sandy rushed over and clapped her hands together to get my attention. "Now I don't talk to people who can't keep their head held high. What's the matter with you? Where's your bounce gone?"

Tears began to form in the corner of my eyes but I refused to let them fall. "Sandy, I'm marrying a man I know nothing about. I don't want to marry him. Surely it's my choice. What gives my father the right to decide my future for me?"

"Your father is a very proud man. He follows his religion with joy. It's what keeps him going. He isn't doing it to spite you. I'm sure this man will be a very nice young chap, and if he isn't, well, then your father will have to admit to being wrong and you can divorce him."

Sandy sat down on my bed and buried my hand in hers. The tears were stinging my eyes now. "It's all right to cry, sweetheart." She told me. Her voice was so tender. So calming. "But I thought you didn't like that?" I said. She smiled sweetly. "Darling, I don't like you to think you're any less of a person than anyone else. I don't want you to hang your head in shame. Crying is not about shame. Crying is about feeling. Your hurt isn't going to heal unless you free it". With that I broke down.

Sandy took me in her arms. Her embrace was so tight it was as if she thought I'd float away if she let go. She stroked my hair and then allowed me to look up at her face once again. "You know, Nina. I don't think you're upset about getting married to Vicram. I think you're upset about not getting married to Michael. Am I right?"

I nodded. "He left me, Sandy. I loved him. Perhaps I was asking too much. He was just a friend. We never even attempted anything else. I must have burdened him too much. I have no one to blame but myself." Sandy shrugged. "I don't think he felt like that. He was always so excited to see you. He told me he always looked forward to his visits. He liked talking to you. He liked sharing his problems with someone who had experienced so many of her own. You helped each other and I'm certain he never meant to leave you."

I looked into her eyes. I'm sure she could see the fear behind mine. I wanted to believe Michael had chosen to leave me, because the alternative was too horrific. I had thought about it a lot. He wasn't the type to disappear without a goodbye and a hug. Whether he'd bored of me or otherwise, he would have always told me the truth. We had no secrets. No lies. But if he hadn't stopped his visits because of me, then something had happened to him. That was worse than thinking he had left me.

Sandy's expression told me she had realised what she'd said. "I'm sorry, sweetheart. I didn't mean it that way. There could be a thousand reasons why he stopped coming, I'm just saying it wouldn't have been your fault."

I sighed and placed the book on the bed. I wheeled myself in my chair over to the wardrobe. "What clothes should I wear?" I asked. "Your father wants you to wear your sari." She replied. I made a face and took the garment out of the cupboard. "I'm not wearing this. It makes me look like a pensioner!" Sandy giggled. "I'll tell your father I forgot to inform you. Wear whatever you feel comfortable in. You know, I once dated a man who...".

I smiled. She always told me of her wicked ways as a youngster. All the men, all the kisses and sometimes more. She had been married once but he'd traded her in for a younger model. She spoke little of this man, but when she did mention him there was always a unmistakable fondness still burning in her eyes. It made me realise, no matter what happened, love was eternal.

"...And that was when I realised he wore a bra. I couldn't be seen with a man who had bigger breasts than me now, could I?"

I shook my head and laughed. "I'll wear this." I held up a pair of faded jeans and a red sleeveless top. She looked at me with a wicked expression on her face. "You're not trying to put him off, are you, young Nina?" I grinned cheekily. "Would I do such a thing?! I feel comfortable in them." I moved back towards the bed, pushing the wheels of my chair with my hands.

Sandy took the clothes off me and hauled me out of my chair and onto the bed. "Right then, sweetheart. Lets get you ready." She looked into my eyes one more time. "You will see him again, you know. I can sense it." With that she began helping me to undress.

2.

"Here she comes!" I heard my father exclaim. Sandy pushed me into the lounge. I saw my fathers expression turn cold as I entered. He saw I wasn't wearing my sari. He liked me to be traditional and I felt that, even with Sandy's help, I would get a bawling when the guests had left.

He continued to speak to disguise his embarrassment. "Mrs. Rao, Vicram, this is Nina. Nina, Mrs. Rao and Vicram...you're soon-to-be husband." I scowled and studied the man seated on the sofa.

He was handsome, that's for sure. His hair was a deathly black, his eyes seemed to pierce through the dim light in the room. He seemed tall, even in his seated position. He looked about the same age as me. Early twenties. His features were icy. He was glaring at me as if I had already tormented him. His mother was more relaxed but appeared just as stubborn as her son.

"She's in a wheelchair!" Mrs. Rao was the one to eventually break the silence. Vicram added to her very observant comment. "You're making me marry a woman in a wheelchair?"

So my father hadn't told them that detail as of yet. It suddenly dawned on me that I wasn't the only one who wasn't looking forward to the marriage. The only difference was, I was objectionable to it because I didn't want to be forced into a wedding, he was objectionable because he didn't want to marry 'a woman in a wheelchair", as he so kindly put it.

"So there's a problem with that? Well, I guess we should just call the whole thing off and..." Sandy pinched my shoulder to silence me.

"There's no problem. I just hope you can work in the house in that condition." Vicram retorted.

"What condition? I don't have a condition. It's not an illness you know. I'm not contagious. I was in a car accident, hit and run. It left me crippled, but I'm not an invalid." This time Sandy did not stop me. Although she was still stood behind me, I knew she was having difficulty hiding a proud smile.

"No wonder it was hit and run. You would have talked them to death. Must you always answer back? I won't put up with it when we're married, you know?"

"Oh won't you, indeed? Well you can just go and find some other mug to marry because I don't change my personality for anyone."

My father was glaring at me. His face had turned so red I thought he was going to physically explode. I wasn't sure whether he was more angry with me or with Sandy for encouraging it. Whatever the answer, he wasn't impressed. "I'm sorry about my daughter, Vicram. She's a little nervous that's all. She'll make a fine wife for you, you can see her beauty."

"Yes. She is quite beautiful." Mrs. Rao stated. "Golden complexion. Lovely eyes. Perhaps you'll learn to control your mouth and then you'll be damn near perfect. Of course, bar your legs." She informed me. I smiled with a sarcasm that I don't think she picked up on.

Vicram agreed with his mother yet again. I wondered how old he was when he'd lost his own mind and had to start sharing hers. "And a fabulous body...of course, bar your legs.!" He said in a patronising tone. He was staring at my breasts underneath the material of my red top. It made me feel uneasy but suddenly I realised he would soon be doing much more than looking. I didn't want it to happen. I must find a way out. I hated this man. I couldn't marry him. I just couldn't.

Vicram's last comment seemed to worry my father somewhat too. He stared at Vicram then looked at me. Almost apologetic, I thought. He didn't do anything about it though. Just finalised the agreement and dismissed me to my room. I wheeled my chair away with fresh tears in my eyes. Sandy rushed after me, her body wobbling with each step she took.

"Oh, and just out of interest...where's your mother?" Vicram called to me.

I stopped moving. The tears in my eyes began to burn. How dare he mention my mother in such a dismissive tone? I spun my chair around, scratching my hand on the metal as I did so. I saw my father glaring at Vicram. However proud my father was he could never deny he loved my mother. I remembered what Sandy's reaction to her unfaithful husband had told me. Love is eternal. My father still loved my mother, more than anything. More than me. He wouldn't have given her away, and I wouldn't let this newcomer get away with speaking of her like that.

"My mother would never let me marry you in a million years. She cared about me and wanted me to be happy. She wanted my husband to feel the same way. She was an incredible woman who believed everything would work out right no matter what the circumstances were. She died in pain. Cancer. That's where she is. In the clutches of a disease that grabbed her whole life and stole her from me. No-one can replace her, no-one. And if I ever here you or your mother so much as mention her again I promise you I'll kill you." With that I turned around and wheeled myself back into my bedroom.

I heard Sandy enter but her features wouldn't register. She looked like an alien in the cloudiness of my swollen eyes. I must have looked the same because when she saw my flushed cheeks and reddened eye lids she gasped. She rushed over to my side and buried my head in the fold of her neck, resting her chin on my black hair.

"Oh, Nina, sweetheart. I know you were upset when he spoke of your mother, but I don't think he meant it nastily. He was just wondering where..."

"He had no need to know!" I interrupted, raising my voice to the only person left who could condole me. "I'm going to be his little housewife. A nice pretty young girl who will cook, wash and 'tend' to his needs. My father might as well make me a prostitute. At least then he'd get paid for giving his daughter's body away. I'd rather him do that. Then my body would be the only thing he was giving away. As it is I have to part with my soul and my whole damn life as well!"

Sandy looked hurt. I shouldn't have shouted at her. She had nothing to do with any of the arrangements. I just needed someone to take my anger out on. "I'm sorry, Sandy. I'm just in a mess. What am I going to do?"

"Well first you can get yourself cleaned up. I'll run you a nice hot bath. You can relax for a while. Gather your thoughts. I'll go and tell your father you would prefer supper in bed tonight. I'll make sure he doesn't come to your room. Then we can decide together over a warm drink and a packet of biscuits what you're going to do about this future spouse of yours. I might even be able to smuggle us a bar of chocolate!" She giggled and made her way into the bathroom.

I felt safe with Sandy. Before, I had told everyone that there was no replacement for my mother. Maybe I was wrong. Sandy looked after me the way my mother had done. She made me smile when I was upset and calmed me down when I was angry. She played a much larger part in my life than my father did. What would I do without her when I had to move in with Vicram? How would I cope on my own?

Sandy returned to my room with a towel and my crutches. I couldn't use them alone, but trips to physiotherapy had made me able to walk with them if I had aid, although Sandy practically carried me. She said she was always scared I'd fall.

I wrapped the towel around my body after getting undressed and hobbled to the bathroom with Sandy gripping my left arm. The bath had filled. She tested the water to make sure it was the right temperature then helped me inside the tub.

The water soothed me. The rising steam seemed to wipe my memory for a while. Sandy was right. This would help. "Call me when you're ready to get out, sweetheart." She chirped. I nodded and watched Sandy leave the room, then laid back in the tub and closed my eyes.

3.

The talk I had with Sandy eased my mind for the night. I was awake early, though my sleep had been undisturbed. Today I would receive my wedding dress and head veil from my father. He took care of the preparations along with Mrs. and Mr. Rao. Vicram's father had not been able to attend last night as he worked as a night nurse in a hospital. Sandy had informed me of this and also told me that Vicram was not planning on moving me far away. She said she would visit often and my father would come with her sometimes too. This made the marriage seem a little more bearable.

I sat up in my bed, removed the duvet and edged closer the end of the mattress. My chair was always placed next to it, so I could easily slide into it in a morning without having to call Sandy, who would be preparing breakfast. I did this and wheeled myself over to the full length mirror. My hair was always such a mess in a morning. When Michael used to come around early he said I reminded him of a banshee. I picked up the brush and flattened it, until it was straight and shiny. Michael would often run his fingers through my hair, or stroke it when I was upset. He had such a close crop all I could do was ruffle his.

I stared at myself. As Mrs. Rao had correctly stated, I did have a golden complexion. I had never been scarred with acne as a teenager and my bronzed skin always left people dazzled. My eyes were my best assets. Such a deep brown. They almost looked like jewels, glistening as if they were supposed to be somewhere else. Michael had never paid much attention to my appearance. We'd talked about my accident and my mother. She always liked Michael and he was very fond of her. He'd never had parents of his own. If it hadn't have been for my father I firmly believe my mother would have adopted him.

What would he say now? What would he do if he knew I was getting married? I think he'd ask me if I loved Vicram. If I was going to be happy with him. Of course, I would tell him no. Then perhaps he'd rescue me. Take me away to a place we could be together forever. Maybe that's what he'd do, but he wasn't here, was he?

The door swung open. I turned and smiled, expecting to see Sandy. She wasn't there. My father stood in her place. His back was unnaturally straight. He always told me it was the grandest way to stand, yet to me it looked unearthly. "You will marry this evening, Nina. Make sure you're ready".

My jaw dropped. "This evening?!" I blurted out. My skin drained it's colour. I felt ill. I couldn't get married today. I needed time to think. I needed to make sense of what was happening to me.

"Yes. This evening. Seven p.m." He told me firmly. His expression was cold and set. There was no persuading him otherwise. His mind would not be changed.

Sandy hurried towards my room, stopping at my father's side. My father ignored her presence and continued to talk. "Vicram wants the wedding quickly. Immediately in fact. You must have made some sort of impression, though I was not pleased with your performance last night."

I held my head high the way Sandy always told me to. "Why does he want to marry immediately? What about the Nikaah?" I asked. My voice was a hoarse whisper. The Nikaah is the traditional engagement process for Kashmiri Indian Muslims. I had never heard of an incident when such an occasion was skipped. "Vicram and his family are against that. They believe it is best for you to wed immediately after the meeting, as living together will allow you to get used to each others company. I have to say I agree. Besides, it is best for you. You need to learn to cope independently." He gave Sandy an icy look. He'd never liked her. "I trust you'll be there?" He asked her. She grimly nodded. "Yes. I'll be there." My father looked at me once again and then returned his stare to Sandy. "Well make sure she's ready. Her dress, veil and shoes are in the lounge. And get that chair cleaned up." His orders were the last thing we heard before he strolled with pride into his own room.

"He's enjoying every minute of this!" I yelled. Sandy moved over to me and crouched down so that she was at my eye level. "He's just proud that his only child is getting married, sweetheart." She said. "No! Why do you always defend him? You know exactly what he's doing. He can control me because I'm in no position to argue. He would have done that with mother if she'd let him. He loved her for not letting him and he hates the fact I can't do the same. He likes a challenge and because I can't give him one he just gives me his orders." I told her. I knew she agreed by the look in her eyes.

"I don't think I can cope without you." I choked. I am at a loss to explain how she heard me. I did not even hear myself. My voice had grown so soft I feared it would soon disappear. Maybe I would disappear with it. Maybe I would crumble up into a heap of dust and be swept away. I would prefer it to happen that way. A life serving Vicram Rao would prove worse than what my musings told. I would be lost and forgotten. In time Sandy would move on and I was sure my father's visits wouldn't be a recurring currency. Everyone would do just as Michael had. I would be left with Vicram standing by my side. The house would be clean, he would have his needs attended to and I would be merely a pretty face amongst the crowd of fellow rejects. This marriage would be nothing short of a disaster for me.

At this time Sandy disagreed, as if she could read my thoughts. "You'll manage fine. You learn to cope when you have to. I'm sure Vicram will turn out differently than what you think. I figure he was just as nervous as you yesterday and you must have scared him half to death with that sharp tongue of yours!" She joked. Taking me in a tight embrace she whispered the following words quietly. "I will always be here for you. I will make sure you find happiness." She stood up straight. "Now let me get your garments." She headed into the lounge to retrieve the wedding clothes.

Was I being unfair judging Vicram as I was? Could it be that he was trying to make his mother proud? He didn't seem to have any opinions save Mrs. Rao's. I had to wonder if he was being pushed into everything he said. If he was really just as scared as me. It was a possibility I didn't like to block. It would make things much easier if I could only grow to like him.

I tried to imagine what Mr. Rao was like. I had a stereotypical image of Indian men all looking and acting like my father. Short grey hair, dark brown skin, a beard or moustache, a deep, husky voice and a tendency to always consider themselves the rulers of women. Vicram, however, did not fit the looks, though he was much my fathers junior, so that was understandable. From what he said last night he did seem to like control though. I wondered if Mr. Rao was the same, although after experiencing his wife's lip, I doubted it somehow.

Sandy re-entered my room carrying a silky white pheran and head dress which was draped with jewels. She also held lace less shoes, named gurgabi. They reminded me of the shoes I was forced to wear as a child and still possessed the ability to walk. My mother had been alive then and I was certain, with every problem I happened upon, that Michael was my knight in shining armour. He had been so helpful to me as a youngster and continued his charm throughout my early adulthood. Why did he leave me? An unwanted anger seethed through me. I needed him. How dare he leave?

Sandy snapped me out of my daze by hauling me onto the bed without warning. Everything else that happened, from showering to dressing, seemed to pass without me noticing. I was unaware of time. It had no concept. Distorted images of my mother and Michael constantly played tricks with my mind. Sometimes I wanted to scream. I thought it would help if I let it all out, but I couldn't risk losing the two of them again. Though the visions spooked me I felt I needed them to remain. As memories of my beloved. As guiding lights to help me through the night ahead. As teachers. Never to give up hope.

4.

The Quran was positioned at the front of the Mosque. Many statues of Allah and Muhammad were situated around the chapel. Mrs. Rao and her sister Saima Rao were witnesses to the marriage. Sandy was the only person present not of the Muslim faith. We had to practically smuggle her inside. Of course, I didn't consider myself Muslim, but as it was, I couldn't argue.

Before I entered the Mosque, my father bound my forehead with a Jiggni, traditional for all Indian Muslims. The women present were dressed much the same as me. Even Sandy wore an old looking pheran, though the discomfort she was plainly experiencing seemed agonising. The men wore tight fitting, bound skull caps with jewellery gracing the front. "It looks like they've all bumped their heads!" Sandy whispered to me. I stifled a laugh. My father would have thrown her out if he'd heard that.

The area of the Mosque I was due to be wedded in was decorated with prayer mats all facing Mecca. Myself and Vicram were to necessitate the front row while the four guests would sit cross legged behind us. As I couldn't sit on the mats I had the permission to remain seated in my chair.

I had noticed Mr. Rao. My perception seemed to fit. His hair was covered by a bulging skull cap, so I could not predict his age, yet he looked around the maturity of my father.

The Imam seated himself at the front of us all, crossing his legs as though he was preparing himself to meditate. "There is no God but Allah. Muhammad is the messenger of Allah". He chanted in a deep voice that echoed around the Mosque. I rolled my eyes. I'd heard that so many times.

The joining continued. Words spoken seemed to be only those of my imagination. It happened faster than I expected. A prayer to begin, a run through of women's rights as a wife and the punishment dealt if those rights are ignored, the final declaration and a prayer to close.

When we left the Mosque my fathers grin was unbelievable. It was a most unnatural way to see him. "Now you will live your life as a real Muslim." He informed he. I laughed humourlessly. "No, father, I don't think I will. Muslim is a sexist religion in which women are forced to do as men say. I won't be subjected to that and you know, in your heart of hearts, that I will be a constant disappointment to you and break every rule in the book." I gritted my teeth and wheeled towards Vicram. "Come my darling. Our life of ecstasy awaits!" I exclaimed sarcastically.

I knew how angry I was making my father, just as he knew how angry he'd made me. It was time to give some back. Sandy stood staring with her head hung low. I passed her. "I don't talk to people who hang their head." I said. She smiled sweetly, tears playing with her vision. "It was always going to happen. Now it has. Don't worry, I'll get by." Vicram had turned back to push me away. "Remember to visit" I called. "I'll phone you the address." My husband let go of the back of my chair allowing me to wheel myself once again. He looked down at me with a sinister glare. "You aren't the only one who intends to break the rules, Nina. Never, ever forget that."
5.

Vicram had taken me straight to my new abode. The traditional after party had be cancelled just as the Nikaah had. I had to wonder why. Perhaps Vicram had wanted to settle me in...or perhaps not. I knew what he must have on his mind.

Just as I was, Vicram remained a virgin. The Muslim religion orders for no sexual contact before marriage, while I purely hadn't met anyone I felt strong enough about, bar Michael of course. He had never seemed interested in such a thing, at least, not after my accident. His views on me had changed since my legs had become paralysed. He seemed subdued and sympathetic, though he never made it too apparent. It was custom. Everyone's attitudes had changed. Even Sandy's.

We entered the house. Vicram flicked the light switch and stood still in his tracks. His eyes had the same glare to them. The same burning sensation. "You never listened to a word the Imam spoke, did you? I am in control of you. You do as I say. You will never humiliate me in such a way again, do you understand?" He pressured me to reply. I simply flicked back my hair and began wheeling myself down the hall, all wooden and shining. Vicram pounced. He grabbed my chin, forcing it upwards. His grip was so tight I thought he was going to crack the bone. "I said...do you understand?" His voice was quiet and calm, which made the experience all the more terrifying.

I allowed a murmur to escape my lips. He took it as an agreement and released me from his hold. "And you shan't be calling Miss maid either. Parents and guardians aren't permitted into our honeymoon house." His voice was of the normal audibility now. I suddenly realised I had married a monster. What would become of me if Sandy couldn't visit?

My whole life seemed to drain in that minute. I tried to convince myself his abusive behaviour was a one off, but I very much doubted it. He seemed like a person who would take any matter into his own hands as long as it made him look macho. Maybe it was because his mother had never allowed him to control himself. Maybe he just wanted to experience it. Just once. Perhaps it was a phase that would pass. Perhaps he just lost his rag with me for ignoring him at the Mosque. Perhaps...

That night we made little conversation. Vicram almost blanked me, only choosing to notice my existence when he wanted a beverage or a snack. He ordered me to get them. On the first occasion I refused. "Get it yourself" I had demanded firmly. The look in his eyes was enough to scare me into taking those words back. So cold. Icy, in fact. Frozen onto me. Locked with mine. "Get them. Get them now. You've been warned what will happen if you don't. The Quran states that a rebellious wife must be warned, then hit. Lightly, it suggests, but that's only a guideline, isn't it?" His voice never strayed it's calmness. Never ventured from the chill. It matched his eyes perfectly. I had tended to his needs. I dare not argue.

I seethed a fresh new anger every time he made his demands. He watched the television in the comfy chair while sipping his larger that had been stored in the refrigerator this very morning. The morning when I was still single. Still free to an extent. Still happy.

The grand clock in the far corner of the dining room eventually struck eleven. I saw Vicram's expression turn wicked. An inane grin covered the majority of his face as he pressed the power button to darken the television to black. "Aren't we going to have some fun?!" He said, half growling his words. I was surprised he had waited this long.

I had a gut feeling I shouldn't protest, but I couldn't just let this monster strip me of my innocence. "Why don't we wait a while? It would benefit us. You'd...I mean we'd be built up for the occasion then. Why don't I get some candles? A romantic atmosphere is important at times such as this." I'm at a loss to explain my reasons for saying that. What did I intend to do? Wheel myself away and hide? It didn't seem likely, but I had to try to stall him. Just for some time. Perhaps I could come up with a plan.

Vicram's face had turned blood red. "You don't want us to have sex, do you?" His question seemed more like an instruction for a reply. "I do! I do, I just...." The words wouldn't form. For the first time in my life since the accident I felt truly afraid. The worst thing was, I wasn't sure why. "You just nothing!" He cut me short., raising his voice a little. It made me feel more at ease to hear him shout. It didn't sound as threatening as his cold, hoarse whisper. "You are my wife, dear Nina, and you will do as I say!" With that he leaped out of his chair and crossed to me, still seated in my wheelchair. He hadn't even bothered to help me out of it and into an easy chair.

His hand shot out to grip my hair. He yanked it with inhuman strength. He dragged my head towards his burning eyes. "Now we're going to bed. I've prepared it all down here so you won't have to climb the stairs." He glanced quickly at my crippled legs. His voice was quiet and icy once again. "Considerate of me, don't you think? Between the sheets you will do to me as I ask. Every requirement, you will fulfil. I'm sure you can guess what I'll do if you don't." He showed me a clenched fist. I remembered his strength. His stamina and speed. I had no doubt that he would beat me. No doubt at all, yet I had to fight back. It was in my nature.

I stared right into the depth of his fiery eyes. I could almost see the flame spewing out previously unused anger. I had to make him understand I wouldn't take this. I spit cruelly into his face. The twisted glare he gave me was nothing short of horrific. "You bitch!" He roared.

I attempted to get away from him. If I could make it to the door I could call for help, but I pushed myself in too much of a hurry. The front wheels of my chair got caught up on a rugged mat covering the varnished, wooden floorboards. I cried out as I was hurtled to the hard floor. Vicram wiped his face with the sleeve of his sweater and grinned. Half running, he moved over to me.

He stood tall above me. I stared upwards. He reminded me of a huge statue. He would soon come to life and attack the rebellious citizen who caught his gaze.

His foot sped out from under him, kicking me repeatedly in the ribs. I groaned with each jab he dealt. He continued, oblivious. When he tired of that abuse he reached down for the high neck of my pheran. In one swift pull back of his hand he tore it from me. My underwear were the only garments of some cover for me now.

Vicram knelt down beside me. He pushed me so I rolled onto my front. He then took hold of my bra fastener and tugged it viscously apart.

He hauled me over his shoulder in a fireman's lift and carried me to the bed, merely tossing me onto the mattress. I watched him as he began to unbutton his white wedding trousers. This was going to be no sex, this would be rape.

I tried to move. Tried to get away somewhere. My legs were of no aid and my arms fell limp. I was worn out. Vicram scurried across to me. He tore my panties and removed the gashed material. He spread my legs. I lay helpless. Naked and scared. He moved on top of me, releasing his penis from the confinements of his underpants. He moved in. I moved out. The pain that bolted through me with each of his strong thrusts caused me to loose a battle with consciousness. From what I know, Vicram continued regardless.

I had gathered myself when Vicram stepped back into the room. My vision was a blur but I could see there was still a large amount of anger masking his face. Without warning he marched up to me. Unprovoked, he struck me across my head with a powerful blow. I immediately blacked out once again.

6.

The colour around my eyes was deathly. An amalgam of metallic grey, frosty blue and gothic black. My head throbbed, my mind spun out of control, the word why rotating itself around and around. Why had my father forced me to marry this demon? Why was Vicram angry? Why did he hit me? Why did he steal my innocence?

The questions felt as if they would be eternally unanswered, a mystery of which I would be unable to investigate. Every hope I had of true love and never ending bliss were drained. Every thought I had of Michael had turned sour. He was of the same species as the one who hurt me so bad. I knew it was wrong of me to think in such a way, but my musings were unavoidable.

Days had passed since the first time. I had learnt to lay back and allow him to do as he pleased. That way the punishment he dealt was only for not trying, something I could never manage. Still, the scars wouldn't heal. I recall
a song with those lyrics. Elton John's "Daniel". "With scars that won't heal, your eyes have died." How very true.

The bedroom door swung open. Vicram stood frozen. His expression was different. Not his usual cold look, nor anger. Almost fear but I couldn't quite define it. Surely the man who beat me wasn't afraid.

"There's someone here to see you." His face seemed drained. His voice was shaken.

Someone to see me? Could it be Sandy? My father? A sudden jab of excitement struck me. Could it be Michael? Maybe he'd heard what had happened. Heard I'd been married. He might have come to my aide. My thoughts about hating him lessened.

I wheeled over to the door. Vicram mournfully followed. A police man took the place of Michael. My heart sank, not only from disappointment but also from fear. Why was a cop here?

"Nina Tahir?" He asked in a solemn tone. I nodded. "She's now Nina Rao" Vicram added. At this time I didn't care.
The police man continued, staring at my scarred face. "PC Brosnan. I'm sorry to inform you your father and a woman, believed to have the maid, have been killed in a fire at their home. There's no suspicious circumstances. Your father had been smoking, fell asleep and dropped the cigarette. The whole place went up in flames. The exits were blocked. No escape for them. We will need you to identify the body of the maid. Your father it is certain, but the woman, we aren't sure."

My heart beat frantically against my chest. I wanted to clutch it. Cover it with my hand to stop the thumping. "I expect you would have told me to sit down." I murmured. "But I'm already seated!" I giggled in a state of delirium, then broke down. My tears stung. They fell freely, but the tender skin around my eyes made them painful. Damn Vicram!

I barely thought of my father. I felt near hatred towards him. If it wasn't for him and his bright ideas I would never have been married to Vicram. It suddenly dawned on me that if it wasn't for the marriage I would have also been killed. It was my fathers fault the fire started. He murdered Sandy. My only means of protection. The only person who loved me. He had set out to ruin my life and succeeded.

I was oblivious of the instructions I was given by the officer. I merely nodded occasionally so it appeared I understood. Vicram wheeled me to the police car following Brosnan. Together they hauled me inside and folded my chair up so it would fit the boot. My eyes widened in surprise. I had a sudden thought of arrest. Then I realised they wanted me to go to identify the body now. I understood the need to be quick with it. The funeral would have to be arranged.

The car began to move. My heart leaped into my mouth. The feeling of loneliness overtook me. Self pity became too strong to ignore. I had to fight back a feeling of nausea as we swept into the coroners car park.

Brosnan helped me back into my chair. Together we made our way into the reception. A pixy faced girl of about thirty five sat behind the desk. She smiled when we entered and directed us to a corridor shielded by a wooden door. The officer pushed me towards it, stopping to hold open the rusty hinged door as we passed it. He halted me outside another blocked doorway.

"Are you ready?" He asked me in a kind voice. I tried to reply verbally but my throat was burning. No words would come. I remembered the book back in my old room. The room was now burnt to a frazzle, along with the book. I nodded instead of talking. Brosnan wheeled me inside the room.

As the door closed I imagined myself entering another world. There was no life on this planet. White walls surrounded me. The smell of burning flesh lingered in the air. I fought back the urge to vomit. I knew the colour had drained from my face. I felt it leave as the door clicked shut. Perhaps, in time, I'd blend into the walls. My fear of been forgotten and lost would turn to reality.

The covered object in the centre of the room reminded me of Sandy without having to see. She looked like the dust sheeted car in "Greece". The part were Danny unveils it. Sandy loved that song. It was her favourite in the musical.

I wheeled closer. Brosnan placed a comforting hand on my shoulder then uncovered the corpse. Sandy lay motionless. Her flesh was scorched black. Her face was almost unrecognisable. One of her eyes had been disguised with blackness. Her lips had detached and blooded, meaty skin replaced them. Her head was now bald, save a few straddling strands of burnt, golden hair. Her nose was burnt to the bone and lay in the centre of her face in an unearthly manner. The rest of her body was still covered by an under sheet. I could only imagine the horrific pain she must have felt as the flames blistered her skin. The feeling in the pit of my stomach grew too strong to ignore. I vomited into my lap, then the tears returned. It was all I could do to stop myself from screaming out loud.

Brosnan took hold of the handles on the back of my chair and pushed me out of the death room. "Deborah!" He called out to the woman on reception. She groaned as she appeared around the corner. "You need help?" She asked while gazing at the mess in my lap. I continued to sob. Talking was out of the question. She scowled and pushed me into the girls room.

7.

I looked into the mirror. My black hat rested on my head a little lop sided. The meshed veil vaguely disguised my beaten face. I had been punished again since the visit to the coroner's. The left side of my face was badly bruised and my left eye was half closed by the impact of Vicram's fists. I no longer cared. I would be living with it for the rest of my life. The nightmares that interrupted my sleep had proved much more terrifying than Vicram's anger. The vision of Sandy laying helpless and scorched haunted me. I had woken up on one occasion screaming. That was when I felt Vicram's wrath.

The funeral had been arranged. I had a double event. Though my father had caused me hurt, I couldn't bare to see him the way Sandy had been. They would be buried by the side of one another in the Christian graveyard. I knew it went against my father's wishes, but I couldn't get my mind to co-operate in arranging a Muslim send off.

I was the only person attending the funeral. Sandy had no relatives, my father never made friends. Vicram had been more than happy to grant my wishes of not attending. He was spending the day with his parents. He still had loved ones and despite of his abuse to me I believe he still deserved them.

The ceremony for an audience of one had skipped the traditional church speaking. A prayer informing me they had gone to a better place rang in my ears as the my father's coffin was lowered six feet under ground. Sandy's followed. I dropped a wreath of flowers and sprinkled earth on each coffin before the undertaker began to fill them in. I had chosen whitish grey marble memorial slabs to be placed next to them. That was all that remained. A pretty stone and some forgotten memories.

I turned away. A lonely tear ran from my eye. It's path was easily marked. I wiped it away when it started to tickle my cheek yet the sight in front of me startled me so greatly I could no longer feel the texture. Every emotion vanished. My head felt like it had a whirlwind spinning inside of it. Unconsciousness came near as panic struck my heart like a lightning bolt. I struggled to find composure. Michael Callahan blocked my path.

His features were stony. His expression cold. Hard. In no way pleasant. He had aged a little but that wasn't what made the difference. There was something deeper. A look of endlessness in his eyes. His mind seemed far away. In another place. A place of warmth and life. He didn't want to be here. He didn't want to be facing me. I was concerned with my own thoughts. I didn't want to be facing him either.

"I heard what happened." He said. I almost made my gasp apparent to him. His voice was as icy as Vicram's. His tone was not soft as it had been all those years ago. It had a sharp edge to it. Almost cutting. "It was in the newspapers. I've been hanging about here for a while. I didn't want to miss you." My cheeks flushed. My vision blurred. Tears would not fall. They just remained. Hazing my sight. Turning Michael into a memory once again.

"Why?" That one word was all I could manage before the tears did start to fall. They flooded my eyes. Clouding my sight. I lost him for a second. The thought of him vanishing terrified me. I didn't want him here. Not at this time. But I certainly didn't want him to go.

His expression mellowed. His eyes welled up just as mine had done. He rushed over to me placing a comforting hand on my shoulder. He wheeled me off the grass and into the empty church.

We sat in silence for a few moments until I gathered my thoughts. I had cried on his shoulder for a minute or two. I felt his warmth again. That hadn't changed. He held me close, embracing me as if his life depended on it. I soon felt better. He now spoke softly as if he thought I'd break if he raised his voice. "I'm so sorry, Nina." I saw the honesty in his eyes. Saw affection. Adoration. Love. He was truly sorry. "I need you to tell me why your here. Why now? I know you're sorry. I know all of that but where have you been? You left me. I didn't know what had happened to you. As far as I knew you could have been..." I allowed my sentence to trail off. I couldn't think like that right now.

Michael gazed into my eyes. "Oh God, Nina. I'm so sorry! I didn't want to leave you. I just...I just couldn't face seeing you in that way any longer. You had your life taken away from you. You were always the greatest friend. I remember when you walked over to me in the school yard. So long ago. You were so beautiful. You still are. More beautiful than ever. But I could see how the accident effected you. I could see deeper than anyone else. I love you, Nina, and I couldn't bare to see you unhappy. I was selfish. Forgive me, please."

My eyes became glassy once again. With words Michael had won me over. I flashed him a watery smile. "You want me to forgive you?" He nodded. I continued, "So that means you're staying with me?" He nodded again. My smile grew more prominent, almost a grin. "Well let's forget you ever went away!" Joy and happiness shot through my body like an electrical current. Then I remembered I had a secret of my own.

"Mikey, I need to tell you something." He smiled when I called him Mikey. It was my own name for him. My own name of affection. "Thank you, Nina. We can be happy now. I know I can't replace your father, or your mother or even Sandy, but I can make you happy."

"Yes, but, I'm..."

"Maybe we could move in together. I love you and if you feel the same way..."

"Michael, I'm married!"

There was a stunned silence. Michael stared at me. I could see my words hurt him. "Oh, I see." He mumbled. I quickly began to explain. "I don't love him. In fact I hate him." I removed my hat. My hair sat neatly on top of my head in a bun. My veil came away from my face to reveal my scarred eye lids. Michael was taken aback. I saw his expression turn to one of disgust. "He did this to me. He hurts me. The marriage was arranged. My father...It was all his doing. I don't love him, Mikey. I love you."

Michael hugged me tightly. He lent over to kiss my cheek but I spun my head around, greeting him instead with my lips. He allowed his tongue to explore my mouth, stroking my bruised flesh with his hand. When we parted we were both breathing heavily. This was the man I was destined to be with. The tenderness of his touch told me so. The desperateness of his kiss urged me to belong to him. He would protect me now. Vicram couldn't hurt me anymore. Sandy had told me I would see Michael again. Perhaps this was her leaving gift to me. She departed but substituted herself for another rock that I could lean on.

8.

Michael pushed me alongside the river. It was a beautiful place. We always came here as children. We threw sticks under the bridge to see who's emerged at the other side first. I was a sore loser so Michael always let me win. I smiled at my musings as the silence that only lovers could be comfortable with continued.

I was sure Vicram had been getting suspicious. For the last few weeks I had been ecstatic. Even after the funeral I'd come home with a smile on my face. He was entitled to wonder why.

The forced love making had become more bearable. Sometimes I even enjoyed it. I thought of Michael. The man who moved inside me was no longer Vicram. He was merely another human. Just another person who had no importance in my life. Michael was the one who loved me. Vicram delighted in the thought that I was enjoying the sessions, yet he still found reason to hit me.

Michael pushed me onto the stone bridge. "I love you Nina." The declaration came from nowhere. He crouched down and kissed me passionately on my lips. His own lips were sweet tasting. Such a pleasant feeling.

My heart skipped as he moved away. "My makeshift home is close to here". I saw the twinkle in his eye. I smiled with adoration. "I'd love to go with you. If you're offering of course." He laughed heartily and nodded. "Yes. I want you to come. I want you to stay with me." I rolled my tongue into the corner of my mouth. "I can't do that just yet. Infidelity to a Muslim husband can get me killed. You must give me time. I'm fine with Vicram as long as I have you. He can only hurt my body when you have my soul." With that we headed towards his house.

The log fire burned hot. My primary thoughts were with my father and Sandy. The blazing flames. The heated odour. As soon as Michael entered the room those thoughts disappeared. I was left with only a longing. A desperation to hold him. To love him.

He joined me on the sofa carrying a bottle of wine and two decorated glasses. His arms snaked around my waist as he seated. I allowed him to hold me. "It's a very nice place." I smiled. His eyes were gazing into mine. His hands were softly caressing my stomach and the top of my legs. The touch was so soft. So tender.

Michael kissed me again. This time my breath was taken away from me. The power of it amazed me. It was so urgent. So desperate. He wanted me as badly as I wanted him.

He eased me flat onto the sofa, sliding carefully on top of me. I felt his breath on my face as we parted our lips. I felt his hardness on my inner leg. He needed to be closer.

I tugged at his T-shirt, eventually removing it from his upper body. My hands caressed his back then moved lower. I could feel the material of his jeans bulging against my hand. He began to thrust himself up and down my body. His fingers tightened around my blouse. He pulled at it causing two of the buttons to detach. The rest popped undone and he tossed the unwanted item to the floor. He struggled with the clasp on my bra. Placing my hand over his I helped him undo it. The under garment was laid to rest on top of my blouse. Both of our trousers and underwear followed in the same process.

By the time we were fully undressed Michael looked to be at a point of explosion. I too could no longer contain myself. The desire was too great. The need was overpowering. "Love me, Michael" I gasped between sharp breaths. "Please, love me!"

9.

Vicram scowled as I entered. His eyes immediately lowered to my breasts and the few buttons that bound the material that covered them. I was undeterred by his icy look. I simply wheeled myself past him keeping my head held high. I knew my cheeks were coloured but whether he noticed or not didn't matter. I realised he already must have put two and two together.

"Where have you been?" His voice was harsh. "Out." I replied, allowing a smile to spread across my face. "THE HOUSE IS A TIP, THE FOOD'S NOT READY, AND YOU HAVE NOT JUST BEEN OUT!" His voice bellowed throughout the hall. I merely turned to face him. I felt a new power within. A new meaning in my heart. "You're right. I haven't just been out. I'm been with my lover. Would you like to meet him?" I wheeled passed him once again, reaching out for the door handle as I drew closer. Michael stood proud on the other side.

"Vicram, this is Michael, the man I'm leaving you for." My mind was fresh and clear. My words were cool. Smooth. Michael's face was set. He gave me protection I previously dare not request. I felt a new strength with Michael around. I felt him seeping into my soul. Directing me to stand up for myself. Vicram was nothing against Michael. His size was minute compared to Michael's. His strength was useless. Instead he turned for the door. "Fine! You have the bitch. I don't want her. I've had my fun. But I warn you, the rules I swore I'd break actually permit revenge for this, and believe me, it'll be sweet."

Michael's expression cracked. His coldness turning warm. He smiled at me. I broke into a laugh. Vicram had finally gone. Whatever form of punishment he threatened to hand out, it would be nothing compared to the violence I had endured. I loved Michael and he loved me. That was all that mattered now.

Michael's face suddenly turned solemn again. A look of worry glinted in his eyes. "Nina, before we start our new life I have to clear something up." He said. His voice was deathly quiet. However, I was unnerved by this. Nothing Michael said would change my feelings.

"You remember your accident?" He glanced down at my legs. I smiled with a hidden air of humour. "Stupid question. Sorry, of course you remember it. Well, you know they never found the driver?" I nodded, anger seethed through me. I hated whoever did this. They weren't brought to justice. I had to live with the deformity they caused and they got away without a care in the world. I glanced at Michael's face. I was surprised to see tears streaming down his cheeks. "I love you Nina. I always have. I never meant to do it. God, I never. There isn't a day goes by that I don't hate myself for it. I'm so sorry..."

My heart skipped. Michael's words were distant. I couldn't comprehend. "What...what are you saying?" Michael's eyes had puffed up. The redness surrounding them reminded me of Sandy's frazzled skin. I wanted to embrace him. I wanted to make it better. But I had to understand.

"Nina, I was driving the car. I was thinking of you at the time. Thinking I was going to confess my feelings. I wasn't watching the road. I wasn't..." He struggled to gain composure. "I wanted to help. I didn't know it was you I'd hit. I thought it could be an animal or something. I was going to investigate but...I'd been drinking. I was over the limit. I knew if I saw what I'd done, whether it was an animal or otherwise, I would have had to report it. I would have been breathalised and then arrested and locked up. I couldn't risk not seeing you again. When I realised the following day you'd been the victim I...God, I'm so sorry. I feel so guilty!"

My pulse pumped inside my head immediately causing a headache. I couldn't think straight. I wanted to be back at home. I wanted to be with the book which had the words that didn't make sense. Suddenly words weren't important. They were terrifying. Tragic. I didn't want them any more. I wanted to be with Sandy.

Michael touched my arm. I flinched but had no power to pull away. "We can still be together though. I felt so guilty. I couldn't bare to see the damage I caused, so I left you. I need you now, and you need me. We can be together and happy. I can keep you warm. Safe. I love you more than anything. You believe that, don't you?"

I felt a paralysing heat rising in my blood. Tears blocked my view. I nodded. I didn't realise I had. I didn't mean to. It just happened. "And we can still be together?" He asked. I nodded again in spite of myself. Every other movement proved impossible. I would spend the rest of my life agreeing to everything.

The door burst open. The wood was practically torn. Vicram stood motionless in it's place. In his hand he held a 9mm automatic. He directed it towards Michael. He was going to fire.

Michael lurched forwards. He tackled Vicram to the floor. The pistol skidded across the varnished wood, halting as it hit the wheel of my chair.

Michael beat Vicram with his fist. Vicram cursed and used all his strength to throw Michael off him. He hit the floor with a thud. Now it was Vicram's turn to use Michael as a punch bag.

The gun still lay at my feet. I lent over to retrieve it. The metallic object was cold against my skin. It felt just about as chilled as my blood.

Michael screamed as Vicram twisted his arm behind his back. It flopped in an unnatural way. He was losing the battle. My husband was killing him. I had to do something. I aimed the gun. Just one shot, that's all it took. Just one single pull of the trigger and there was silence. He was dead.

10.

I smiled down on Sandy's grave. I'd told her my problems. I'm sure she understood my reasons for killing. After all, Michael had taken my life into his own hands, it was about time I had his.

Vicram had been so startled as Mikey had slumped forwards. His face was a picture that would remain in my mind for eternity. He hadn't dare stay. Perhaps he feared I would have done the same to him. Perhaps I would.

Without a doubt my husband would have rushed to the police. I only had a couple of hours freedom left at the most. I had to use the time wisely. Saying goodbye to Sandy and my father was the only way I deemed fit. I had been a prisoner for so long another twenty years wouldn't make a difference. When I was released maybe I'd end it all but I refused to be a coward as Michael had been. I would not turn into something I loathed.

Prison would be a minor punishment. In some ways it would even benefit me. I would be rid of Vicram and his fists. I would no longer have to play the perfect wife or live a life of lies.

I wondered what life would have been like if I could have given Michael another chance. He wasn't a bad person. He just didn't think. He'd acted stupidly and I'd been in the way. I couldn't let him get away with what he did. I vowed if I ever found the driver I would kill him. I never broke a promise. Michael told me never to do that. In a way, it would have been what he wanted.

My goodbyes were done. I was going to get a taxi to the police station and give myself in. No point in waiting to be caught. No point in letting Vicram look like the hero. I smiled at the marble slab. Maybe in matter of years I would see them again. I held my head high and wheeled towards the road. I imagined Michael standing in front of me as he had been at the funeral. He had been brought to justice...and now...so would I.

The End

copyright c)2001 Samatha Jayne