I haven’t seen my sister for more than a month. I had no time at all. But when I finally visited her I could barely know her. She used to look after herself. She didn’t even go shopping with no hairstyle, no make-up. And here I met a ghost, a woman in unhappy marriage to the son of one of the chancellors of city-based high-schools.
Dishevelled hair, pale hollow-cheeked face with black eye-rims, scared glance. She wore stretched sports outerwear and formless jumper with long sleeves instead of summer dress. And this happens in July. When it is extremely hot.
Horrifying surmise came to my mind. A junkie for sure. At a drop of a hat, I took her hand, unfolded the sleeves of her jumper and I was numb with horror: red cuts almost skinned over and cicatrized scars.
Aika burst into tears and said that is her husband humiliating and jeering at her. And that was when I learnt about this polite smart guy had been an experienced drug addict. He was not going to kick off his bad habit. He liked to get high and then when in narcoma he cut his wife. Moreover his parents knew about his addiction but took no efforts and measures considering that husband is allowed to do with his wife whatever comes to his mind. And now Aika trembled with fear expecting her husband. He threatened her with death if she told about his addiction to anyone.
A key turned in a keyhole. The door opened and brother-in-law came in. He wasn’t able even to be surprised as I immediately started to punch him. It was like thousand of demons rose up within me who demanded to kill him and revenge for my sister who quietly winded in the room corner.
I gave him good business. While he was unconscious, I took off his clothes and tied him with fabrics to chair. Perhaps I had something convincing in my voice so that these lumps came in the twinkle of an eye.
They dug into everything when they saw me cutting their son’s neck with razor (who was by the way awake). His mom averted her eyes from this sight but she said nothing, only his dad was able to almost whisper: ‘Do what you want to do with him but leave him alive, I beg you’ – he said.
I cut him with some brutal joy. And my foolish sister screamed there, cursing me and begging for mercy. Her husband just lied down there, mumbled and yelled, crying. I could barely manage myself from punching him again. And these furrows swelling from blood calmed me down.
I cut his hands and chest. I did exactly the same he had done to my sister. And after I gave an unconscious son to his parents.
A week later when I came to visit my sister she didn’t open the door. This idiot was afraid of her sibling! I just tried to save her.
A month later I knew they had moved to another city. Two years later my sister called me and informed that she was pregnant.
Ten years passed since that incident. I often visit them. We reconciled with each other. And I am OK with my nephews as well. The only thing is that my brother-in-law always escapes me. As I come to visit them he finds thousand excuses to go to some conference. One’d think I come to cut him. He is not drug addict anymore.
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