A Slice From Jessica's Life

The lid was lowered and with every passing second Tony's face became sparsely visible. The coffin was lowered into the ground as Jessica watched without batting an eyelid. The kohl that lined her lower eyelids remained perfectly winged. Tears coursed down her mother-in-law's face, and she leaned on Jessica and held her hand tightly as though she was the anchor who would prevent her from drowning in the sea of sorrow. Jessica's fingers curled around her mother-in-law's hand and formed an assuring envelope. The priest said a prayer and the coffin lay six feet deep oblivious to the affairs of the world. 

Jessica thanked the near and dear who were present at the funeral, took a panoramic view of the surroundings and after making sure that Tony rested in peace she left. Tony's brother offered to drive her home and she agreed. Had Tony been alive he would have made a ruckus at the sight of Jessica and his brother travelling together. A cool breeze caressed Jessica's cheeks and her tresses danced to its pleasant tunes. Jessica stared at her reflection in the side view mirror, and she couldn't help but notice the purple marks on her cheek. It was one of the last few things she had received from Tony. Two days back his hand had danced on her cheeks leaving an imprint behind. It was her mistake. According to Tony, it always was. His mind was filled with invisible puddles of insecurity that had turned him into a monster. He used to find fault with everything she did. Right from what she wore to what she ate everything was his choice. She let him control her life as she loved him deeply and presumed that he loved her too. She had mistaken his obsession as pure love. Her parents had warned her against marrying him, but the blind love had gotten better of her. He pampered her with chocolates, flowers and surprise dates. She was swept off her feet. She mistook his controlling attitude as his love that knew no bounds. But as time passed, Tony had revealed his true self.

A few years back, he found her engrossed in a conversation with a male colleague of hers and hell had broken loose. Albeit she does not remember about the conversation she does remember every detail of the events that had ensued. He held her hair tightly and curled them around his hand and dragged her to the room. She was lashed back and blue that evening. He called it a punishment for her wrongdoings. It was a correctional therapy according to him. She crouched behind the bed and felt the tears even before she had begun to weep. The entire night passed in pain, disgust and deceit. She had fallen asleep on the ice-cold floor.

The next morning, she woke up with the sunrays falling on her face. Her face shone under the radiance of the sun highlighting her tear-stained cheeks and swollen eyes. She went about with her everyday routine as though nothing had happened the previous night. A bouquet of roses greeted her in the kitchen. She wasn't surprised though. This was expected. He did this all the time. In an attempt to overpower his guilt of behaving like a monster he pampered her with flowers and hoped that she would be swept off her feet one more time. Resisting the urge to dump them in the trash can she placed the flowers in a corner, away from her sight. Tony was an occasional abuser. He said that it was her behavior that triggered him.

She had contemplated about filing for a divorce umpteen times but that didn't turn out well for her. When Tony learned about her intentions he had locked her in the confines of the house. He clipped her wings and made her to cut ties with her family and friends. The thought of filing a police complaint had crossed her mind once or twice but she knew that it would not be fruitful. Tony was a reputed police officer. He was a hero in the eyes of his colleagues and higher ups. He had received many accolades and she wasn't sure if anybody would trust her.  

The car screeched to a halt. She thanked Tony's brother for giving her a ride and got off the car. She dragged herself and inserted the key in the keyhole and twisted it. She winced as she twisted the doorknob. The bruises on her knuckles were giving her a tough time. She walked to the room and switched on the light. The perfectly placed bedsheet and quilt and the neatly aligned pillows caught her attention. She caught a glimpse of the books on his table. A book titled 'My Experiments With The Truth' was placed half opened. She left it as it was. She shuddered at the thought of meddling with the things around. Tony would not like it. It felt like he was still around, observing every move of hers. The man who tortured his wife for more than half a decade was reading a book about nonviolence and honesty. She sat on the bed with her knees pulled towards her chest and buried her head into her knees. 

The incidents from the previous evening came gushing before her. He had surreptitiously crept into the house to get a glimpse of her deeds and saw that she was talking to her mother. In the blink of an eye he was back in his monster avatar. He snatched the phone from her and pushed her against the wall. He twisted her arms and hit her on her knuckles. She wailed and fell on her knees and begged him to spare her. Her incessant pleas acted as a fodder to his ego and he left her to just be. 

While she lay on the floor withering in pain, his phone rang. He darted to the room and bent forwards. He kissed her gently on her cheeks and said, "Duty calling honey. Get up and be ready. Let's go out for dinner once I'm back," and left. After a few minutes, she got up, picked up the bits and pieces of her existence and entered the bathroom. She splashed cold water over her tear stained cheeks. The woman in the reflection was beyond recognition. The dark circles that enveloped her eyes, the purple marks on her cheeks and her bruised lips cried for attention. Ignoring their pleas, she reached for the vanity box and smeared her face with make up that were adept in concealing the battles she fought each day and helped her in putting up a facade of a happily married woman.

A few hours passed and there was no sign of Tony. She fervently hoped that he never returned. Her wish was so profound and honest that the universe had conspired to fulfill it. The shrill noise made by the home phone broke the night's silence. 

"Tony was killed in a shooting." The information felt like a tranquilizer to her. Her heart beat normally. Her breathing was relaxed. She sighed in relief. He was gone. The monster who lived in the disguise of a hero posed no danger to her. She was a free bird. She could now live life on her terms. It was her version of the independence day.

The shrill noise made by the home phone transported her to the present. 'It must one of those condolence phone calls,' she thought. A wry smile cracked up on her lips. No more dwelling in the past. She got off the bed and walked to the living room. Ignoring the phone call, she switched on the television. She could watch any show of her choice. Her choice now mattered. If not to anyone else it mattered to her. 

"The man involved in the homicide of Officer Tony was apprehended by the police department a few hours back," the piece of news caught her attention. She saw that the supposed offender was a young man in his early twenties. A young woman hugged him tightly and cried while he kissed her on her forehead gently. Tony had never kissed her like that. Not even once. 

"Monster nabbed," The news articles on the internet read. The young man seemed like a kind guy who loved and respected the woman in his life. He might be a monster to the world but to that woman he was a hero. On the other hand, Tony was a hero to the world but to her he was a monster. He was a horrendous villain the mere thought of whom sent a chill down her weary spine. 

She reached for a paper and pen. An amalgamation of hero and villain, she wrote. Each one of us have positive emotions like empathy, love and kindness in our hearts. They are often interspersed with jealousy, anger and ego. Who are we? A Hero or a villain? Maybe a combination of both. In a quaint town, lived a young girl, she began to ink her story. In the eyes of the world, it would be a fictional tale but she knew that it was a slice from her life. A bitter part of her life that she had left behind. She would give a positive end to the story. She couldn't stand up for herself when Tony was alive. But the character in her story would do that. As this time, she was in the driver's seat ready to take control of her life. 

The titles appeared. People left the theatre with multiple emotions stirring within them. While some of them applauded the near to reality movie the others wished that Jessica's character was portrayed in a better manner. They wished that Jessica was portrayed as an independent and intrepid woman and not a victim. "We are all a combination of hero and villain," they hummed as they walked out of the cinema theatre.