She crouches in the corner, in terror.
The door slams.
Hugging her knees, she sits still, afraid one movement of hers would make him return.
She is numb to the pain now. It is the silence after the storm that she dreads now. A silence that seems to mock her, taunting her that at least, it is free to vanish as it wishes.

The slanting, striped rays of the afternoon sun peep into the room through the blinds, touching her feet, shy of reaching her body, scared of illuminating the bruises.
She crawls towards the window, draws open the blinds. Slowly she opens the window. The wind is strong and pushes against her, as if urging her to move back. But determination surges into her. Carefully she climbs the window sill and looks down. The world below is normal. A mother picking up her baby and twirling him around in the park, a hawker trying to sell his wares to a watchman, a couple on the bench, two elderly ladies sunbathing.
A normalcy she craves.
And she jumps.

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