WHEN LOVE TURNED SOUR

==OPHELIA==

My thumb hesitated above the 'Record' button on my phone, while my fingers shook, unwilling to calm down. I saw a reflection on the screen of a face that looked pale, hollow, and nearly unrecognizable. When did I turn into this unfamiliar person? The faint silhouette of a person I once recognised, now obscured and smudged by suffering.

A part of me desired to halt, to cast the phone away, and simply bring everything to an end. However, the words in my throat fought to be let out. I struggled to even murmur, "Owen, my husband..." Feeling his name in my chest like a sharp knife that wouldn't come out, causing a silent, lingering ache. I could still perceive his icy gaze, the manner in which he would stare at me, as though he preferred my absence, as though I was only a hindrance in his existence.

"It has been five months." I spoke in a trembling voice, barely louder than a whisper. "Five months spent attempting to understand the cause of the problem. The reason he transformed into a monster. How he turned into this hollow husk, a person I can't even identify anymore." I tried to force a fake smile, but it faltered and turned into a bitter chuckle instead.

"My parents also acted like they didn't notice anything," I whispered wearily, my voice heavy with tiredness and bitterness. For them, this marriage was like a fairy tale, an ideal situation that restored their previous social standing. I experienced a scorching sensation in my throat-the discomfort of tears I had suppressed for too long. "They believed I had at last discovered joy."

"I made an attempt. I made a great effort to meet expectations, to fulfill my father's wishes, to satisfy Owen's desires, in the hope that he might eventually acknowledge me." I struggled to control my shaky voice and clenched my teeth, determined to stay calm as I tightly squeezed my fists, feeling my nails digging into my palms to steady myself. "No matter what effort I exerted, it was always inadequate. I had disappeared from my own life."

"I simply desire for this agony to cease... I wish for everything to come to a halt."

I clicked 'Upload' quickly, unable to stop myself, observing as the video vanished into the vastness of the internet, taking all the hidden parts of myself with it. I was unsure if it would be noticed or if anyone would show interest. It didn't matter.

I glanced over at the rope resting on the table. I sensed a lack of feeling, like all emotions had flowed out, leaving a serene, vacant exterior. Almost without thinking, I grabbed the rope and felt its texture anchor me as I wrapped it around the beam, securing it with an unfamiliar sense of calm. I got on the chair and stared at the ground below me. This marked the conclusion of the suffering, the hopes, and the constant pursuit of a life that never belonged to me.

I let out a final, brief breath before kicking the chair away.

===============

I slowly emerged, feeling cold and confusion creeping through my mind like fog. My eyes were too burdened to lift, my fatigue pulling my body down, along with a mysterious heaviness, as if I were suspended in a state of half-sleep and half-wakefulness.

Intense fluorescent lights seared my eyes as they blinked open, cutting through the fog. Everything surrounding me felt sanitised, remote, and overly illuminated. I felt a shadow next to me, and gentle fingers delicately covered my hand.

"Where...am I?" My voice was barely audible, hoarse, and rough, each word causing discomfort in my sore throat.

A nurse's face appeared, showing a soft expression filled with sympathy. "You're in a safe place," she whispered, gently squeezing my hand for reassurance. "It has been 48 hours since you were admitted while unconscious. You are now better."

"48 hours." The words floated in the air, seeming surreal and without heaviness.

How can I continue to exist in this physical form I believed I had moved on from? I felt my chest constrict and my throat fill with unidentified emotions. I looked away from her stare, unable to handle the affection in her gaze-that compassion.

After she departed, the heavy, engulfing silence weighed on me like all the burdens I had attempted to escape from.

"Even death rejected me." I whispered.

Shortly after, the door opened once more, and I prepared myself for yet another nurse or doctor. Instead, a female police officer walked in, her gaze unwavering but caring.

"Mrs. Wraxall." She spoke in a calm tone, her voice oddly comforting. "I'm Officer Garrett."

I moved with difficulty, every muscle sore, which made my motion sluggish. "What is it that you want?" I had a harsh tone in my voice, with words that were not meant to sound that way.

Officer Garrett moved closer, her facial expression becoming gentler. "I've come to look into the video you uploaded on the internet," she said softly. "It has been going viral, and people... well, people are concerned about you."

The words hit like a punch, empty and confusing. "Worried?"

I wanted to let out a bitter, hollow laugh, but it ended up getting stuck in my throat and emerging as a strangled noise. "Why are you attempting to deceive me?" I whispered, my tone heavy with resentment. "Nobody cares!"

She maintained her unyielding gaze, a subtle comprehension evident in her eyes. "Sometimes people don't realise until it's too late," she said gently. "But now that you have been offered the attention. If you're ready to converse, we're ready to listen."

I averted my gaze, looking at my hands while feeling the familiar heaviness settling on me, weighing on my bones. What can I say that would make a difference? The isolation, the deceit, and the wounds that had been inflicted remained present and piercing.

I balled up my hands, turning my face. "I'm not sure if..." I whispered, my voice fading as the words felt too delicate to complete, too hesitant.

Officer Garrett remained, her presence stable and steadfast, indicating she would stay until necessary.

Within that quietness, an unresolved decision approached.

I opened my mouth to let the words pour out-