Flower
- 3 years ago
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Flower Ch. 02 free porn video
Surprisingly many days had passed by without any major incidents and I was happy that I managed to keep my normal schedule, that I succeeded in doing all the things I was told to do, the right way and on time, even though I was stuck in thoughts almost all the time. I went through the motions, responding to input more or less automatically – probably very like those years when I hadn’t really been there fully, my days in the gray mist – hoping that my upset thoughts about the world, my life and love as I knew it wouldn’t be picked up by my husband and his family.
Some days I found myself making great plans for my future life, plans that somehow always fell short when it came to the first part, the actual escape. Other days I read online stories about abused women, the descriptions of their lives turning my stomach and bringing tears to my eyes. The planning and the stories about the women who had actually gotten away gave me a sense of purpose and made me want to live and fight another day and then another.
I realized that no story was exactly alike and that there was no such thing as ‘normally’ or ‘usually’ when it came to hurtful, abusive relationships and domestic violence, but I thought I could detect some common points that painted parts of a pattern.
Many stories described the prince charming effect, where a seriously attentive male would turn your head just as much as what other people were saying about him, him being the catch of a lifetime. In most of the stories you could read, at least between the lines, that the woman being wooed felt inferior to the man in one way or the other, which made for an imbalanced relationship from the beginning, making the woman strive extra hard to please and appease the man.
Once love and devotion had taken its hold, the serious game of making the woman doubt herself and trust the man would ensue and the most important part, getting rid of the woman’s social network, making her cut all ties to her family and friends would be done as quickly as possible. Once isolated the woman would be made to believe she was to blame for what happened to her.
My story didn’t really fit into the pattern I detected, except the first part where I met and fell in love with an attractive and charming man. I didn’t really feel inferior to my husband, he hadn’t been able to make me doubt myself fully or make me believe that his punishments were fair, and above all – I still had my friends. I started thinking that if my mom and dad hadn’t died in that car crash, I might actually have gotten away. As it was, my grief for my parents had somehow done what those first weeks of mental and physical abuse hadn’t been able to do, it had turned me into a non-feeling shadow of myself that could be easily controlled and directed, like a living, breathing doll.
Was it a blessing or a curse to be back in the land of the living? I really couldn’t say…
– – – – –
‘Crap,’ I whispered as I scanned the long list of unread e-mails on my phone ‘why do I keep getting this spiritual guidance, yoga, meditation crap in my mailbox?’
I had started getting annoyingly many spam e-mails, all with the same ‘find your true self/inner beauty’ message. I wondered what page I had visited or what e-mail list service I had signed up for that had my mailbox exploding with unwanted messages. I wasn’t even interested in that new age stuff.
I sat in the beauty parlor, muttering to myself and tapping on my phone, waiting for my once-a-week overhaul. When I had walked in just a few minutes earlier I had been informed that my beautician was running a bit late and I knew I had at least ten more minutes to wait. The weak tea I had been given interested me as little as the shiny magazines in front of me so I settled down with my phone, deciding to read some of the messages before deleting them, needing to keep busy to still the restless energy that was running through my body.
After quickly reading a few of the e-mails I realized that most of them seemed to be from local businesses. There was a yoga place just down the street, a regression specialist, whatever that meant, three blocks away and some sort of tarot card reader/fortune teller just a few blocks further away. The next two were from two different massage parlors, also in the neighborhood. I stopped reading and thought about that idea for a while, some help soothing my tense muscles wouldn’t go amiss, would it? I looked at the prices and deleted the messages quickly just as I had done with the first ones, no use dreaming about things you couldn’t afford.
I ruthlessly deleted all of the messages until I reached the last one, where the subject caught my eye. According to the electronic information there was supposed to be a ‘Spiritual Wellness’ exhibition that exact day, just one block away from the beauty parlor. I was struck by an impulsive thought, that perhaps seeing a few new things might show me new ways of solving my personal puzzle. And if I didn’t get any new ideas, perhaps I could get some free advice on how to grow stronger both mentally and physically?
My thoughts were interrupted by the familiar voice of my beautician.
‘Rose, I’m so sorry you had to wait!’ she said as she walked towards me with quick steps.
As a high priority client I was one of a handful of people that actually got the services of this particular beautician, seeing that she was both extremely skilled and that she was the actual owner of the parlor. I had a standing appointment with her every week, my beauty an investment that had to be well cared for, according to the family.
I smiled at her and nodded with a short ‘Gabriella’ thrown back at her, happy that she used my first name when she approached. I had asked her to call me Rose many years ago, but it had taken her a long time to agree. I remembered the day she had first called me Rose with mixed feelings of sadness and relief, since it was also the first time she had accidently seen some lingering bruises on my body.
I followed her into her luxurious rooms and sat down in the soft and comfortable chair in the corner, waiting for her standard comment about the frequency with which I visited her.
‘You know you don’t have to come here every week, don’t you?’ she said with her accompanying smile.
I smiled back at her and shook my head, knowing that she didn’t expect me to answer. I looked at the dark haired, middle aged beauty before me, seeing her flawless skin that still had no visible wrinkles, even though she was perhaps 15 years, or more, older than I was. I looked at my own face in the mirror shortly before turning my eyes away, glad that my age was not yet showing and still annoyed about the way my looks had brought me nothing but trouble.
‘Facial and nails then, as usual?’ she asked me.
I nodded, leaned back in the chair and was carefully tilted backwards. I closed my eyes, lay back and tried to relax as much as it was possible for me when someone was touching me. My body was always on alert, the built-in fight or flight reflex constantly working overtime. Although Gabriella’s touch was very soft in every step of the beautifying process, I could still feel myself twitch when she came in contact with my skin. I didn’t want to see the worried look in her eyes that I knew was there so I kept my eyes closed, pretending a calm that neither of us really believed in.
My mind started spinning the thoughts that had been circling in there for weeks, somehow hoping that the answers to my questions – the how’s and when’s – would magically appear. I needed to get away, to be able to get away I needed money and before I could get away I needed to find a way to protect my friends. The only way I could protect anyone from the almost all-seeing power of the family was if I could find someone who was even more powerful. And those kinds of persons didn’t really grow on trees did they? And if I found a man with that much power wouldn’t that be like
going from bad to worse? More power probably meaning an even stronger need to have things under complete control.
After the notion to run away had hit me that morning a few weeks ago, apart from reading stories about abused women, I had also started reading everything I could about ‘normal’ – as in non-abusive – broken relationships and divorces. I realized that most women seemed to use a new partner as a sort lever to be able to extract themselves from their old, tired relationships, somehow finding the strength to break things up and the needed support in their new, loving companionship.
So yes, if I could find myself a powerful, gentle, loving person who would give me all the support I needed to be able to get away from my current life, then everything would be just great. And Father Christmas and the Tooth Fairy would probably be walking beside him, hand in hand, singing a medley of their favorite songs about everlasting love and happiness.
I just barely managed to hold back a snorted, slightly bitter laugh at the colorful images in my mind. I thought about the idea of love and happiness and wondered if I still had the ability to believe in even the concept of such a thing. Well yes, perhaps I did, because I was still able to feel happy for people that fell in love around me. I thought about Sarah who had just recently found that ‘special someone’ she had always dreamed of and the way my heart warmed as she told us about him, her cheeks red and her eyes shining. So yes, I still believed, as only a true romantic can, but the idea that I would be able to find someone I could love, who would love me back this time, was just too unbelievable.
I figured that the damage done to both my body and my psyche was too big. The way my body reacted to loud sounds, to someone moving too fast or to a simple touch of a hand was almost as disturbing as the way my mind seemed to see dangers everywhere I went and the way I considered every new person I met an enemy. The simple fact that the first thought to surface at every casual meeting was ‘how will this person hurt me’ didn’t exactly fill my life with song, laughter and cheerfulness.
When Gabriella had just finished my facial treatment she was called away for some skin condition emergency and I rose from the chair and walked around her office. A table in the far corner was covered by colorful pamphlets and I walked over, still feeling the need to keep busy. Amongst the various beautician and hair dresser brochures and business cards I found information about yoga classes and health clubs, massage parlors and meditation classes, and it made me feel slightly shaken, the same information coming from several different sources at the same time, was the Universe trying to tell me something?
Just as I picked up a brochure that looked kind of familiar, Gabriella walked back into her office, apologizing for leaving me with quick words accompanied by equally quick steps as she walked up to me. She looked down at the paper in my hand, smiled and asked me if I wanted to be released early so I could go. Confused I looked down and realized I was holding information about the exhibition I had been reading about just half an hour earlier.
‘Whaa… no, I don’t think… I should,’ I answered, my voice low and a bit tense ‘and you still have to do my nails…’
I sat down in the chair again and Gabriella shrugged and looked at my nails, scanning them for imperfections. She then pulled out a bottle of nail polish, the same color as the week before, and proceeded in painting those few spots that were a bit chipped, not removing, brushing, polishing and painting as she usually did. She put the cap on the bottle, looked me in the eyes and started talking.
‘Now, your nails are done… and there’s plenty of time to get your skinny butt to that exhibition!’
I shook my head and felt my shoulders tensing, frustrated because I knew that even if I might pride myself at not being completely controlled by my husband, I was still afraid of his anger, the anger that would likely surge if he knew I didn’t follow his directions, which clearly stated that I had to get the full weekly treatment at that specific beauty parlor. The thought of what might happen if I snuck away had my body trembling. I forced my body to still with great effort, but not before Gabriella had been able to notice my involuntary reaction.
She jumped up and started walking back and forth in the room, waving her hands agitatedly and speaking angrily in Spanish. I let my eyes follow her movements, forcing myself to take long, slow breaths to prevent what felt like a panic attack.
Gabriella looked up at me and as she saw my probably deathly pale face she gasped and quickly stopped her pacing. She shook her head, walked up to one of the walls and pulled back a curtain, uncovering a door. She pointed at the door and started talking.
‘This is what I propose,’ she started ‘as of today, this is your escape hatch. Every time you come here, you get either a facial or your nails done, and then you use this door to get away for an hour or, if we’re quick about it, an hour and a half.’
I stared at her with wide eyes, slowly grasping what she was saying.
‘The money I get from your husband for that last hour I will split in two,’ she continued ‘one part is for you to use when you go out that door every Thursday, the other part I will keep here in a box for you to use when you’ve decided what you’re going to do. And so help me God, you are going to do something about your situation, and soon!’
I kept staring at her, shocked by what she was saying. Why would someone I didn’t even know that well be willing to help me both by giving me some precious free time and by giving me money to spend on myself and a possible escape plan?
‘Why?’ I whispered with tears in my eyes.
‘Because of my sister, Isabella,’ she whispered back, her eyes blank from unshed tears ‘who didn’t survive the hell that her husband gave her. Because I didn’t see it then even though all the signs were there. And because I promised myself that I would try to help any woman that needed my help, if I saw the signs again, and if she was receptive to the idea. And my dear, this is the first time I have seen you receptive to any type of idea.’
‘But, the money?’ I asked, my voice low and worried.
‘The money? You mean your husband’s money? That you will be using to get away from him? I agree that it’s not really a fair compensation for what he’s done, but it’s a start anyway!’
I shook my head, overwhelmed by emotions, eternally grateful that she was offering me her help, feeling both excited about and scared of my future. I was sad because she had lost her sister but happy that she had seen me and that she had given me the chance to take this first step towards a better future.
I stood on slightly shaking legs, walked up to her and hugged her awkwardly. It seemed that hugging didn’t quite come as naturally to me as it had done in my childhood. After holding me close for just a short moment she walked towards the door and opened it for me.
‘Ok, it’s time for you to walk one short block to that exhibition. Be free, and find something you would like to do for yourself. If there’s a class that you’d like to take I can easily switch your scheduled time so you can fit it into your secret, free hour. Anything, at any time!’
I removed the robe I was wearing to protect my clothes, straightened my short sleeved dress and took first one hesitant step towards freedom, then another and another until I stood outdoors on a small side-street.
A smile tickled the corners of my mouth as I felt something blossoming inside my chest, the almost completely forgotten feeling of hope.
– – – – –
I walked around the exhibition area, trying to keep under the radar, to not get pulled in by the sales people – which, despite being dressed slightly different from usual sellers, was in truth what the sm
iling people standing behind the tables were. Trying to understand what they all had to offer without stopping was a bit difficult, but after I had circled the place three times, I was beginning to get a better idea about what services, and in some places what products, most of them could provide.
Between two yoga specialists, I had spotted a small table where two smiling women were handing out a simple brochure that I had managed to read had something to do with mental training. Since they weren’t grabby or clingy, I stepped up to them, was given the simple folded paper and walked away.
The brochure had information about several different classes, anything from help to self-help and mental strength to active presence and breathing exercises. What caught my eye was a description of one specific class that was to be started in one week’s time, where the aim was to give you tools to help overcome difficulties in your everyday life, be it unemployment, illness or grief after losing a loved one. You would be taught mental training exercises, meditation techniques and other things that would help you heal and grow stronger. Didn’t that sound exactly what I was looking for, what I needed? Something that would make me stronger, something that might help me figure out how to get away from my husband without causing other people any lasting difficulties.
I looked at the price and that short bit of hope left me. I had just enough money to buy myself a glass of wine every Thursday evening. Everything else – like my weekly appointment at the beauty parlor – was prepaid or invoiced, all my clothes were bought by some shopping consultant, my jewelry was locked up where I couldn’t get to it, I was being held on a tight leash, emotionally, financially, completely.
Even with the money I had been promised by Gabriella, I wouldn’t be able to pay the fee for the class, not if I had to pay it all up front, before the class began.
I rejected a passing thought about asking one of my friends for money, I really didn’t want to answer the questions that would follow that request. Why would one of their richest acquaintances need money from them? What if they started asking questions and my husband heard about it? I wasn’t really sure if I was trying to save face or trying to actually, physically save my face, but there you had it, I didn’t dare ask them for help, I just didn’t.
A surprising burst of anger flowed through my system, I couldn’t give up when I was this close. I turned back towards the smiling women, walked up to them and before I could hesitate I asked them if it was possible to pay a weekly fee instead of paying the full sum at the start of the class. Their answering yes put a smile on my face again and without hesitation I signed up for twelve weeks of learning how to move on with my life.
My steps felt lighter when I walked back towards the beauty parlor. I had hope, I had a beginning of a plan and I had someone I could lean on, everything that I hadn’t had when I woke up that morning, and even just one of those things would be enough to really make a difference.
– – – – –
After I got home, I took my daily walk in the garden. With every – still lighter than usual – step, I took deep, calm breaths of air, feeling my body grow slightly more relaxed than what was usually the case. Somehow it felt like the air was warmer than just a few hours ago and as my walk took me further into the garden, the colorful flowers that surrounded me looked brighter and smelled so much sweeter than before. With my face turned away from the house I let out a short laughter, amused by the amazing effect that some hope and happiness had on my perceptions.
I sat down in my favorite spot in the garden, that far corner where I couldn’t be seen from the house. I just wanted a moment to enjoy the newly awakened feelings that were running through my body, a moment where I didn’t have to constantly think about keeping a calm façade, just a few minutes of happiness.
Alma
- 25.04.2020
- 22
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