Rules are meant to keep discipline where chaos isn't of need. They are to keep balance and harmony, but I would like to think of rules as the limitations imposed to keep one chained to the expectations of society.

Dear peruser , this is the whack of my life I intend to bid for audience.

I have never been one to expect anything from life, let alone people. I have always been the one to voluntarily capitulate to the darkness of the night. For one cannot be brought to cognizance in the wonders of the dusk. Equivalent to my desire for invisibility, I'm not one to shield myself from unfancied circumstances, even when one might deem it necessary.

I'm one to succumb to the decisions of others for me, especially those of my mother's. Even when one is to wed a fellow old enough to father them at the age of 16 years, I shall be of no trouble and do as I'm told. Be that as it may, I was already passed the age of becoming and in need of a mate, at least according to my amma. Out of all the eligible bachelors she could have chose, she chose a man who has wedded and mourned twice long before the course of my life. This was the man I'm to leave my maiden home with. The man who is soon to greet death before me, if not already. I, however remained in quietude as they were deciding my fate in that parlour. The fate I had no say in. The fate not even the universe had a thing to do with, as my amma already took the liberty. All in the name of not having a spinster under her repute. - Are you with terms of the predicaments to come to my reputation if you are to not wed? - the words she would use when reminding me of the successful lives my other three sisters lead in marriage. Even when it is known that none of them wedded out of obligation but love. Was the idea of the other ton important to her than the feelings of her own daughter? It would lead me to only wonder what would be if father were here. Would he coerce her daughter into an undesirable marriage in the name of maintaining a reputation. She happily gave my hand to a man I barely knew in matrimony. It was as in any event, she jumped to the first opportunity of the one who would like to be my betrothed. Only to be rid of me. The night before my wedding I tried fleeing, but where could a helpless 16 year old possibly go without a chaperone or anyone to look after them. So I stayed, out of fear.

I took course to my matrimonial home with my supposed husband on a fancy carriage. That place was no home but a purgatory. The moment we were behind closed doors on the night of my arrival, he laid down rules to which I must abide. - You do not speak without my permission - , - Under no circumstances I shall find you questioning my judgment - , - You shall never lack in performing your duties as a wife - those were some of the many rules he had laid before me. As usual, I were to heed to everything my husband required, like a good wife my mama has prepared me to be throughout the years.

The progression of time was the inflammation of my torment. He would take dutiful exertions for me to be with child, which were in vein. I would then have to take the blame for our unsuccessions as if I were the one with problem. He would then drub me to my unconscious as punishment for failing to fulfill my duties as a wife. My body was covered in blue and red of older and new scars imprinted on my skin.

Years passed by and everytime I would journey to my maiden home to seek aid from amma, she would look at me with no remorse and say - I cannot be the one to take care of your matrimonial difficulties for I'm no longer responsible for you. Your husband is - . How could I expect any better from the one who drove me to the site of my own grave. She did not feel a thing for me upon seeing how my life faded away with every breath I took. She had all the requisites to help me escape even the country, but she withheld from helping her daughter. As she didn't want to be the mockery of the ton with her daughter's failed marriage. At time I would attempt to converse with my sister but she would prevent me from doing so as one's marital issues is of her home. That was most certainly not the relation her and father shared, nor did the one I had with her was the same as hers and grandma. What did I ever do to deserve such unfortune and cruelty, even from my own mother.

When brother George, the husband of my elder sister Gina, died after 8 years of a happy marriage. I was in bed, failing to even move my finger, mother forbid me from attending the funeral. - You can't go out in the public looking like that, what would people think of your husband - , even on my deathbed, mother is still hellbent on protecting the cause of my unwell. She didn't even alert anyone of my condition, she simply told them I needed time with my husband. Everytime I would look at myself at the mirror until I couldn't stand to witness my flash fade to the hands of him. The scars turned into permanent tattoos which would always be a reminder of my hardship. All the beauty I once possessed, gone just like that. The condition of my skin rapidly changing as if I were ageing.

I remember the night of my older sister, Rose's ball, amma didn't allow the helpers to dress me. Instead she offered to aid me with my dressing herself because she didn't want anyone to see the life I lead with my husband behind the shutted doors. The liberties she took to hide the burns of the fire she started were humanly shocking, even for her. You could've seen her and my husband getting acquainted at the ball as if though all were well. How pretentious they can get in the eyes of many, I guess they have more in common than noted. After all, it is them that are digging my grave for me. Mother did not allow me and my sisters a moment of our own as she was afraid of me diminishing my house. Something that I needn't to do as the home is already of no honour. My failures to be with child was the only thing in my favor, as I would wish for no child to bear witness to such savagery.

For the past 11 years ,all I have ever endured is pain and insults for failing in my duties as a wife from the one who is bound to protect me. My body has now been numb to his beating, tears have gone dry from my eyes. The only thing residing in my brain is the time I will take my last breathe to end the worthless life I was living. All of this because of the rules society has set for one to fit in. Rules we are obliged to follow without hesitation. Everytime I think back to the 16 year old girl who had dreams and hopes that I condemned to my nemesis. The girl that once believed she possessed a chance in love, now living at the merciless hand of her husband. It is rather ridicule how one's decision can determine their fate. I could've chose to not be a poltroon that night and fled when I still had a chance. I would've been living an indigent life perhaps, but at least it would be a happy one. Like how my sister's marriage are and has always been.

One day my eldest sister, Gina who is also a widow, came to my matrimonial house to see if I'm well. For the first time after my first debutante as a married woman. She was the one who came to my house to provide moral support after the first week of my marriage. I have always wondered why she never came to visit my home, only to find out mother told her to not bother my husband and I as we required more privacy. As she was bringing all mother's schemes to keep me in isolation, I burst into tears. I couldn't hold back to all the pain I have suppressed all those years in the presence of our mother anymore. I let her know of everything that took place from the time I set foot into that house. I also told her of the real reason I couldn't attend his late husband's funeral. All those years mother knew of the life I led with my husband yet she manipulated my silence.

The burden I have been carrying on my shoulders all alone was now lifted after telling sister Gina my secret, that my husband broke me with the assistance of our mother. Sister Gina offered to help me escape the country with some of the money her late husband left her. It felt as if I was dreaming to hear those words after 11 years of torture. A miracle I have prayed for, for as long as I can remember.

A couple of days later, sister Gina purchased a ticket in the boat leaving to Buenos Aires for me. I patiently persevered for those last few days until it was time for my departure. She then had to escort me to the boat in camouflage so that people cannot know of our plans. I couldn't believe I was finally saved from the humiliation and insults to my womanhood. The only time I knew it was really over was when all I could hear was the water tides splashing against the boat as we sailed to the South. When all I could see was the sea surrounding us. I could feel the breeze of the air sliding through the surface of the sea and I have never felt this one with nature. I stood up and allowed the power of the wind to blow against my anorak, I then felt the freedom I have yearned for so long.