The band-aid

 

“Go, put a band aid on that before you bathe. You will scratch it otherwise.” Mom shouted from the kitchen.

And without even looking up from my pillow I reverted back ” I can’t find it mom. Forget it . ”

As if she could. She came stomping all the way. Took the band aid out and put it on my pinky finger. Of course , her background dialogues continued..but who was listening ?

 

Only if she could forget it that day. Or the other days. Only if she would not care that much. Only if she had left me to fend off for myself.

At least I would know what to do now. Without her. Lost in this world. Next to this man. My legally wedded husband. With these scars I have from our daily routine. Of him drinking. And of me being thrashed around.

Could any band aid fill the pain? Could any medicine help?

Only if she was here. To tell me what to do. I promise to do it by myself .

 

Just before that drop of water tried escaping my eye yet another day, I got up.  Not one more tear for this man. For this life.

I need my band aid.

 

I need my mom.

 

I need to go to her.”

 

That’s all the note said. It was as lifeless as the body next to it. May she find her band aid soon.

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