Love In The Mud

Love In The Mud

Ep 1

I doubted it, I knew it was all a plot to lure me in. I remember all the lies that tickled my ears as truth at the time. I fell for it. I fell in love but it wasn't love. It was a trap, a trap to completely drain me, and a plot to kill me.

I slowly opened my eyes; my hands were still tied behind me, and I couldn't feel my legs. I winced at the pain of the bruises I felt from my face down to my body.

Luke pretended to love me. He bought me gifts and spewed lies, took me out on countless dates and promised he'd never leave me, made love to me like I was his only treasure in the whole universe, defended and protected me, then took me to his mom and swore he'd marry me, that we'd build a life together.

Again, I silenced the voice at the back of my head telling me to stop, telling me it was all a ploy, telling me it ends with him, but I didn't listen. I didn't want to put an end to the magic that erupted every time he ran to hug me, that special feeling when he pulled me in for a cuddle, that connection when we played and fooled around, that look in his eyes when he holds my hand and tells me "he's got me", the sparks when we accidentally brush past each other, the relief, the joy, and everything. Just because I haven't felt that kind and extent of love in my entire life. I fell.

I let emptiness and desperation rule me. I thought everything would be different if I ignored the signs, erased all the handwriting, and burned those bridges intending to lure out of my ecstasy. So I fell harder.

They say loneliness is part of human life and nature but I decided to burn myself out measly because someone decided to show me the littlest of attention.

I crashed.

A few months back, I lay in bed sick. I had taken my medications and succumbed to self-treatment because I couldn't afford the hospital. I shivered and trembled under the sheets but there was no sight of Luke. My husband.

Yes. I married him. I remember I couldn't even wait for him to finish asking. I'd snatched the ring from his hold and slipped it through my tiny-looking finger in excitement. We both said our vows at the altar. We were so happy we had each other. But he turned cold 24 hours after our wedding; he started by saying he'd exhausted too much money for our wedding ceremony and the fact that I should get a job immediately so that I would be able to support our further expenses, and I deemed it fair enough.

Two weeks passed and we didn't go on our honeymoon. I reminded him of it, but he didn't care to attach any form of significance to it, and it was strange because he'd emphasized an elaborate wedding and honeymoon before we got married. Then he suddenly didn't want to hear of it again. I decided to tilt in agreement because we'd be saving costs.

Luke had traveled to what he called a "business trip" and whilst I trembled under the sheets with hot tears falling out of my eyes, I checked my phone for messages that didn't come and calls that were not returned. I blamed the fever for those stupid tears. I cried shamelessly, waiting for an ounce of love and concern from my husband. I later slept off with my phone in hand.

A bath of cold water dragged me out of the thread of memories about the cold end of love once on the rails of a crazed inferno.

I shook the impact away from my face as I tried to keep my eyes from closing again. I blinked severally and then I caught the sly smirk etched to his face. He'd brought me a brown crispy-looking bread, and it was when my gaze settled on the half glass of water beside the broken plate that I remembered my lips were sealed.

My throat was dry and in need of water, and he knew that, but he spat in it, mixed it, and then offered it to me. I turned my face away, but he grabbed my chin, tore away the tape from my lips, and forced me to gulp it down.

My nails dug into my palms as I tried to feel less miserable.