'A caged bird lets it's imagination run wild to sing of the freedom that it craves and deserves.'

It was a peaceful day at Hepburn. The sun shining softly, embracing earth. The blowing soft breeze making the trees that are blooming gently dance to the music of the distant chirping of birds. This scene would be serene to anyone who viewed it. Anyone but for Ms. Freyja.

It had happened last week, her mind reliving the moments making her completely oblivious to her surrounding. The sound of a chair being dragged back abruptly ringing in her ears constantly, the burning sensation spreading on her upper arm as the alcohol filled glass shattered, digging into her fragile layer of skin. The short but haunting silence which prevailed in the study before the door slammed shut thunderously.

She was in constant pain for a week now, not physically but mentally. Listening softly to the agonizing disintegration of her soul. Piece by piece. Losing herself to the evident numbness engulfing her slowly.

The bruises were bright pink to dark red peppered across her skin indicating the abuse caused by her husband, Mr. Carson Leighton. They were neatly covered under the sleeves of her exorbitant grey sweater. She caressed them as gently as she could but it was to no help, her finger-tips were rough due to the household chores that were all done by her, alone. She began to stare at the happy baby blue sky wide-eyed as she took a deep breath through her nostrils. She could only wish to be nuzzled in Mother Nature's embrace to hide from this sickening reality that she was now exposed to.

  Only to wish like a lost depraved child left all alone in this scary world.

A heavy sigh escaped her lips. It was a failed desperate attempt to feel something in the pitch black void formed inside her. But she knew she won't. She decided to return to his house although her feet wanted to stay, maybe even run. But where could she go? She was literally homeless if not for her husband, Mr. Carson Leighton, a well-known man in Hepburn due to his ancestral wealth and business.

The house was silent, so silent that you could hear her breathing as she worked her way up towards her room. She absent-mindedly remembered those nectarous vows made to her by her husband during their wedding. "You shall be a part of my soul as we walked across the bridge of the dead till time do us apart." Intoxicating words that lured her to the beast that made her life a living hell. Their wedding had been arranged by their parents. She was such a happy doe during those months. Now that she thinks over those memories with a different view of life, she remembers how he gave her cold stares, left her to herself most of the time and had not smiled in any of the photos on the auspicious day.

He had declared last week that he loved her no more and had always loved her distant friend, Charlotte Sigourney. He had also told her she will be moving in the following Saturday as their wedding was to be held on Sunday. His parents had married him to her to gain and strengthen her father's business alliance. Their marriage was professional and cold. Divorce papers were spread on her bed. Tears poured out through the rims of her eyes like burning salt. The void inside of her sucking her sane mind, her hands balling up into fists clenching tightly near her chest as she lay like a fetus on the hard wooden floor.

It all made sense now.  Every action of his, the words said to her through his nectarous lips was a plan to leave her miserable and exposed with no help to this living hell. His abusive nature was fueled by his hate for her and not because of his childhood torments caused by his father like how she was told. Her love for him was untainted, everything she did was for him. She took great care to make everything up to his interests. After everything he had done to her she continued loving him blindly. Naively. Her mind tormented her as it had finally recognized the truth that was staring at her in the face all this while.

Was this what life had in store for her all along? Was this the fruit she reaped by bearing all the emotional and physical abuses caused by him? Was it wrong that she dared to hope that her love will heal him of his torments?

She had been used bodily and mentally, broken to her soul, her mind writhing in confusion. Was this what she deserved? What was her mistake? Did she not love him enough? What did he find in her that she had not provided him with? Why did he have to ruin her like this?

why?

Her eyes continued burning with each blink due to the vigorous crying. Her body exhausted and dehydrated, the center of her upper body still aching physically due to the emotional trauma. Her mind could only drag her into slumber as she continued longing for serenity. It was not much but she could not afford it or even dare to dream about but she did. The pitch darkness of the room engulfed her but it was not scary anymore since she was filled with a more darker void. She found temporary relief with the darkness surrounding her as the void in her began rushing through her veins now.

She was oblivious to how long she had been sleeping but was yanked out of the temporary bliss as a hand pressed deeply on her wounded upper arm. She let out a hoarse frail scream. He twisted her arm behind her back causing the wounds to open and bleed profusely.

"I told you to sign the papers bitch!" His voice echoed through the partially empty room as he held her hair in a bunch in his fist. Yanking her further back he grabbed the papers from the bed and dragged her by her hair to his study.

She did not fight against his hold but rather let her body go limp. She was breathing but was completely dead inside as she stared at the marble flooring of the hallway.