The perfect home, the perfect life, the perfect couple indeed. That is, perfect from where the public sees.
Behind the closed doors of their humble abode, however, lies a different story, one that is not spoken about at parties and gatherings nor displayed during peaceful walks in the park.
It’s the story of anger and heartache, sadness and guilt, anxiety and frustration.
It’s the story no one wants to hear, and everyone avoids admitting. It’s the story of an endless struggle of domination shadowed with bitter pain for which there seems no remedy.
It’s the story of a stressful marriage fuelled by financial plunders, uncontrolled tempers, inconsistent communication, and lack of understanding.
It can be triggered from just about anything — a foul remark towards a significant other, the helpless cries of a hungry infant, or even the bitter taste of a piece of burnt toast served for breakfast on a Saturday morning — and can lead to the unexpected.
It begins with a war of words; a small meaningless quarrel evolving into a battle of control.
A slap across the face ignites the tempers; firm on contact, it provides the perpetrator with a blaze of relief while the victim succumbs to a blaze on the cheek.
A push here and a shove there follow, sometimes resulting in a broken arm or bleeding lip.
Pulling the hair and elevating the voice to chilling decibels of fury supply the right amount of intimidation while a burn next to the delicate eyebrow subdues any sensation to retaliate.
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10:21 PM
Moderate Islamist here
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