Delusional Reality

A Story by Natalia M.V.W

A wife of a very rich man is mentally ill but does not know about it. She struggles to understand whats real and whats a creation of her mind leading her to take uncontrollable decisions.

Click one step, clack and another, click I hear him gasp, clack. I should feel guilty for walking with my heels on our fresh Merbau red-beer wooden floors, but I don’t, not until he takes down this revolting deer’s head out of our bedroom. The look on its face, it’s still the same, full of fear as if it knew what was coming. Like it already witnessed this happen to its fawn. As if it saw - their blood colouring the white snow like a toddler would when given its first ever paint to play with-red blood splashing everywhere adding tone and shades to the snow, as you hear proud laughter of grown men praising their kids for the savage hunt.

I still remember the second I saw the bullet ripping its life away like Grim Reaper; rib cage cracked and its skeleton fallen apart ,the body created cool, ghostly Halloween wind as it hit the cold floor. I can’t look at it and not feel as if my heart is crying out blood.

Today my husband ordered to paint the walls ruby red just, so that the deer he killed would present itself better.

I’m desperate for some sleep today, arguing really takes the energy out of me and the tension is raising in the room with every tick of the clock. I’m aware I was supposed to hire women to paint the walls but they were busy polishing silver, I had no other choice other than to hire men. Men are there for the dirt job either way. He always gets so jealousy when men look at me; he wants me all to himself. Selfish. I don’t do anything to stop this, to be honest I love it. It’s hard to look away from my bright two eyes and I take advantage of that. Well, I need attention too; I want to feel attractive, pretty. I want to feel as if I’m in control of something at last.

Click clack I walked slowly towards him, the closer I got the stronger the smell of smoke and sherry became, the tang permanently stuck to his silk soft skin, as if he was hexed with it. But the odour wasn’t repulsive, no, it was teasing. I take of my heels off and my chest became tight, and the fluttering pain crushes my lungs. Fighting for a breath, I lay down in bed next to him. He still has that effect on me. I slithered closer so I could come into contact with him, his legs wrapped around mine like two snakes dancing around in the desert of aught. But the warmth I felt against my skin quickly left as soon as I noticed the cold stare of the killed deer.

One last glass of my herbal wine down my throat and I’m ready to fall asleep.

Few minutes passed and as he falls asleep he tells me “goodnight my queen” in his sweet, amiable yet manly voice that could crush every woman’s heart into pieces from envy - that he isn’t theirs , is like a lullaby or The Canterbury Tales to my ears. Envy did I say? Jealousy, anger, vexation. That’s what all of these green-eyed wretched girls feel when they see me with my man. Fixing their eyes on him as if he was the prize. But he won’t look back, his eyes are fixed on me, only me.My beauty is compared to Aphrodite’s; just like her no man can resist me. I slay with my bright blue eyes and my golden, thick, long hair .They need to realise that they are looking at the gods of their time.

I stare into the darkness and feel comfortable, confident; powerful-so I let my thoughts flow like a river- creating its own paths through the mountains of memories, happiness, and joy. But these thoughts didn’t last long, I quickly found myself getting drowned in sadness, pain, and misery. I ended up in the darkest places of my mind. Remembering all the things I’ve done to others gives me goose bumps. But the question is, is it because of the guilt or the satisfaction they are causing me to feel? I can’t tell myself.

This might be surprising but I feel trapped in here, in this house, I’m not allowed to step my foot out of our land. He always tells me that his doing this to protects me.That this is out of love. What love? These excuses to keep me trapped in here irritate me so much. And protect me? From what? Life?

No diamonds can buy me anymore; I won’t fall for this again, no shoes, no silk, and no dress. I get told it’s because I’m his one and only but I know that’s a lie, I know it is. I’m sure of it. I feel it in my bones. His lies break me a little bit every time making me to bleed inside. I can feel my insides getting cut and stabbed inside of me bit by bit. All of my organs, muscles, vessels they are all getting wounded, even the capillaries are being popped and squashed by the pressure building up inside of me. All of it is just getting cut and wounded. But the cuts are small enough not to cause me death just pain. He doesn’t want to kill me, he wants me to suffer. Just like that deer, I’m just there for the show. Huh, you see even thought our beauty is striking he wants me to be racked with pain.

I remember being a kid in elementary school and the teacher would make me cut construction paper for my projects. I always tried cutting too many pieces at once and the scissors could never take it. The blades would kind of roll over each other and the paper wouldn’t just pin in between them. That’s what happens with my insides. I can feel as if someone is trying to cut my intestine but can’t, so they end up being all smooshed, flattened and pressed up together.

All of this because he lies.

There is this one in particular situation that is labelled “taboo”. I don’t know why but for some reason whenever I try to have a conversation about this and simply resolve the problem, I get told I’m crazy, talking rubbish or something along these lines. I remember exactly what he did. I have enough of his mind games; changing the story, messing with me, messing with my memory like a trickster. I know what happen he can’t change order of things-the natural order, is he trying to mock me? I know what happen.

About a month ago or maybe two, we were walking in the park. I remember every detail of that day, the pearly rays of the sun cuddled our eyes, the air was dry and the freshly bloomed flowers complimented my lightly blushed cheeks. He couldn’t take his eyes off me; we were like two magnets that couldn’t get away from each other. I looked away for a split second and in the corner of my eye I saw him look at her, I saw him look at other women, her lips were red like my blood. He always changes the story here. Always denying it, trying to prove me wrong. I know he did this, he didn’t stay pure to me, he broke our promise; he gave attention to her pretending that I’m not there, that I don’t exist, that I’ve become a ghost. He disgusts me, he isn’t worthy of me. All this time I cherished, cared, devoted, loved him …. All this time it took me to realise his just filth.

The temperature under the covers got close to 45 degrees, he knows I hate the heat, yet he still decided to close all the windows. I bet you on my mother’s life he did this on purpose, it’s probably his way of punishing me for the whole painting situation. He always tries to torture me, make me feel bad in some way. I can tell his going to wake up with a headache tomorrow; his cheeks are strawberry red all flamed up.

The stench of tobacco and alcohol became overwhelming by now, I wonder how I didn’t mind this before, it feels almost like tricksters spell was broken and my senses are coming back. No more blinded by love. My muscles started to tense out of anger, I can feel every part of my body slowly cramping. My blood is boiling inside of me; if I’m not the only one then he will have no one. Like a sign from heaven a light shone upon the letter knife. I wonder what he opened with this knife, love letters from his secret affairs? Is that what I really meant to him, he never could appreciate art; I am walking god’s art. Eye for an eye, a tooth for a tooth, stab for a stab. I am not cruel, I am fair. Straight through his heart the wound is quick and keen, after death ill also be your queen.

The dagger sits deep in his chest, the time stops and a fresh breeze brushed through my skin awaking me, making me realised I was being delusional again, but it was too late. His eyes opened but he couldn’t make a sound. Now the covers were ruby red, just like he wanted the walls to be, at least now they match the deer.