MUSTAKEEMAH’S POV
I went on my knees instantly in tears, because I already knew today was my last day on earth. I know what he is capable of, and this time around he is definitely going to remove my soul from me. My cries increased as I began to look everywhere… so this is my last breath on earth. At least I’m finally going to have the rest I’ve always prayed for. He is finally going to grant my wish. I felt a little bit relieved because I’ll finally be with my parents, and that’s exactly where I belong—with them. But then again my heart began to pound heavily. How painful can death be? Does it hurt more than what I have experienced? But I quickly made up my mind; whatever the pain might be, it’s worth it because I’ll finally be with my parents. All of a sudden he barged into the house and found me on my knees, but immediately I set my eyes on him I knew it was finally time for me to die. Tears just kept gushing out of my eyes, but I decided not to say a word, so I remained on my knees. As he took more steps closer to me, I closed my eyes, patiently waiting for him to either stab me or strangle me. But instead, he pulled me up and embraced me. My eyes were still closed as I was still in shock over what was happening.
Mubarak: I’m sorry for the pain I have caused you, my love. I’m sorry our child left us without saying goodbye, but don’t worry, everything will be fine… ok?
Mustakeemah: (still in shock as her body shivers in fear)
Mubarak: (still not letting go of her) I’m sorry for the loss of our child, but what you did out there is very offensive. I’ll let this slide because you just lost our child, ok? But if this repeats itself again, then know that will be your last day on earth, and I mean it.
Mustakeemah: (still shivering)
Mubarak: You don’t have to be scared, ok? I’m here for you, my love. (He pecks her and lets go of her) I’m starving. Remember you woke up late this morning and I let that slide as well due to the loss of our child. So now go to the kitchen and make me something delicious.
Mustakeemah: (she nods) Ok sir. (She walks into the kitchen as fast as she can, worried he might shoot her from behind) What just happened? (She slams the kitchen door) I can’t believe I’m still alive. How come? What did the delivery man say to him? How is that even possible? I’m still breathing? I’d better prepare his breakfast as fast as I can. (She remembers her miscarriage and rubs her stomach) But I miss my child. I wish you could come back to mummy. I miss you so much, my baby. Why did you have to join my parents so early? Why? (She wipes her tears as they flow down again) Mummy misses you.
Mubarak: Mustakeemah!
Mustakeemah: (runs out of the kitchen) Sir, you called me…
Mubarak: Go pack the deliveries and bring them inside. They are all yours—all the things you need to recover from our child’s death.
Mustakeemah: (sad face) Ok sir.
Mubarak: Hurry up, cause I’m starving. I need to head back to work. I’m late already. Just prepare something fast.
Mustakeemah: Ok sir.
********************
FOUR YEARS LATER
Mustakeemah’s POV
It’s been four years stuck under the bridge life of a monster—tortured and misused by Mubarak. But the fact that I could live with him for four years and still survive is the biggest achievement of my life. My entire body is filled with scars. Whether there is hope for me or not, I don’t care anymore. All that matters is how to survive under him. Spending four years indoors without stepping outside sounded unbelievable to me at first, but it became my reality. My complexion even turned lighter due to lack of sunlight. But there’s something I’ve realized about my monster: sometimes he is good to me, but it never lasts. Other times he treats me worse than an animal. My greatest fear is the pills he keeps forcing me to take. I once saw on TV the consequences of such pills, but that never stopped him. At the same time, I don’t want to get pregnant again, and he makes sure to prevent it. Now I know everything about Mubarak, inside and out. Anytime he yells at me, I just stare at my fingers and chew them, waiting for him to finish barking like a dog. Then I either sit him down and pet him, or seduce him to subside his anger. Anytime he hits me, I cry from the pain, but immediately he stops, I stop crying too. It has become part of my daily routine… to be beaten.
One day I sat my husband down when he was in a good mood, after I had satisfied him with everything. I asked him to rate my cooking skills from one to ten. He gave me 9.5, which means he really loves my cooking. I don’t even know what came over me to start such a discussion—maybe overconfidence in my tolerance of him. I told him I would like to open a small restaurant so I could make income from my talent for cooking. The moment he heard that, he raised his eyebrows and stood up. My heart didn’t beat fast because I knew what was coming. Either he would hit me or insult me. Inside my mind, I told myself, say whatever you like, do whatever you want, but I’ve said my mind already. Go on and hit me. My flesh is used to it. But instead, the next thing he said was:
Mubarak: You are crazy.
(He walked out on me. I just watched him tiredly as he left the room. Immediately, I picked up our blanket and spread it over my body.) Good night, Mr. Monster.
---
Few weeks later
I was busy tidying up our master bedroom when I walked past the mirror near the wardrobe. I stopped and began to stare at myself. That was when I realized I was adding more weight. Why this sudden change in my body? My husband walked past me as I checked myself out.
Mubarak: What are you looking at?
Mustakeemah: Nothing much, but I think I’m adding more weight.
Mubarak: Why won’t you add more weight when you’ve finished my money?
Mustakeemah: I don’t think that’s the issue. These days I barely eat, and I easily get irritated by food. I should be losing weight, not gaining.
Mubarak: You better not be pregnant again. (He quickly covers his mouth as his eyes meet hers.)
Mustakeemah: (realizing what he said) Is that possible? No… it can’t be! (She checks herself out again and stares at him.)
Mubarak: Why are you looking at me like that?
Mustakeemah: I’m afraid you might be right. (She begins searching the entire house for a pregnancy test.)
Mubarak: Don’t bother yourself. It’s not possible. You can’t be pregnant. I always give you those pills immediately after sex, so there’s nothing to worry about. (An idea pops into his head.) Unless… you stopped taking the pills.
Mustakeemah: (scratching her neck) Well…
Mubarak: (finally realizes she wasn’t taking the pills) Wait a minute! You haven’t been taking the pills all this while? (he angrily gets up) Are you nuts! (he takes steps closer to her)
Mustakeemah: I’m sorry, but I had to stop taking those pills because of what I saw on the news about the risks… and I don’t want to lose my womb. I want to be a mother too.
Mubarak: If I— (he raises his hand to hit her but stops, while she is already stiff, expecting the slap) How dare you! (he begins to scatter everything in the room, screaming at the same time)
Mustakeemah: Sir, please calm down. I thought you would be happy to hear this… like finally we are expecting another child.
Mubarak: Which stupid child? Who told you I was happy about the first one? How could you do this without my awareness? Who wants to be a father to your child? You better do something about that thing you call a child inside you!
Mustakeemah: (shocked) So… so you were pretending to be happy about my first pregnancy? You purposely made me lose that baby? Is this how useless I am to you? That I can’t even bear you a child? Aren’t you old enough to be a father? If you can’t give me freedom to live, at least grant me this wish to bear you a child. I’m desperate for it! How could you be so cruel? (she breaks down in tears)
Mubarak: Am I the one you’re talking to like that? Are you crazy? Since when did you grow wings under my roof? Are you mad? Abi you want me— (he lands a heavy slap on her face) Idiot! Who wants to have a child with a common slave like you? Or is it because I’ve been managing your useless body all this while that makes you proud? My friend, get the hell out of my sight! Rubbish!
Mustakeemah: (crying harder) All these mean words for me? After you used me and molested me all these years, now I look useless to you, right? You killed my child! You tortured me like I’m not human, and now I’m carrying another child… so your intention isn’t good towards this one either? Are you even human? Because I don’t think so! You are a monster!
Mubarak: What did you call me?
Mustakeemah: Yes! And I’ll say it again—you are a monster and a devil! And I won’t watch you like a fool the way I did before when you killed my child. I won’t let you harm me or my baby again! It ends today. Enough is enough. I’m done. Open that stupid gate and let me out!
Mubarak: (he doesn’t wait for her to finish before he pounces on her, quickly removing his belt and whipping her several times. He drops the belt and begins punching her face and stomach, but she tries to fight back) I must kill you today!
Mustakeemah: Somebody please help me! He wants to kill me and my child! (gasping for air)
Mubarak: (he lets go of her, but before she can get up, he drags her by the legs into the room and locks the door) Today I’ll take your life, just like I did to my first love.
Mustakeemah: Please, I’m sorry! Don’t kill me, I’m sorry for all I said!
Mubarak: You are nothing to me. (he pushes her onto the bed and begins strangling her as she struggles to free herself) You must die today! You must die!
Mustakeemah: (she struggles to remove his hands, coughing violently as her eyes nearly pop out. Her hands wander across the bed, searching desperately for something to hit him with) Plllleeeeeaaase! (gasping for air, about to give up, her hand touches a vase. She grabs it and smashes it against his head. He falls back on the bed instantly.) Yeeeehhhhhh! (he rolls from the bed to the floor as blood gushes from his head. Mustakeemah, still coughing and gasping for breath, doesn’t wait. She picks the vase again and forcefully breaks it over his head. Blood gushes more heavily as his body collapses lifelessly.)
Mustakeemah: (she falls to the floor, trembling and crying, her entire body shivering and her face covered in blood)
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