Pest control - 5

Read part 4 - here

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The best way to win an argument he had learnt was to beat the person beating you at it, and it helped when it was a woman who was too afraid for her good reputation.

But could he help it? He’d loved her. He loved her so much that the very second he realized that she didn’t want him or the moment she hinted that she hated him he couldn’t bear the thought and was there any other way other than beating that woman, that woman he loved with his life into submission until she agreed to love him, although she lied it was good enough for him.

‘Please lie to me that you love me. Don’t tell me the truth that I’m not worth you because I can’t bear to know that.’

She’d often bled under his beatings, but she more than often retaliated.

She was big, beautiful, taller than him, he hated being shorter than her.

Her punches were strong, almost always knocked him over and that somehow fanned his need to be more dominant because how could a woman that too a woman he loved beat him?

She played fair because she was nice, that’s why he loved her, and that’s why he was unscrupulous because anytime he knew she’d overpower him he’d dole out a knife from the kitchen and slash at her. Once it tore her dress, once he’d hit her with a bottle of coke, was it? no, it was some other drink. She’d fallen unconscious and there was a big lump on her head.

He hated doing this to her but what could he do? She just wasn’t ready to accept him in her life.

Uma had wanted out the very moment they'd started dating.

For what?

Is checking phone a crime? Is seeing what your girlfriend does behind your back, whom she talks to, what people she meets isn’t something a boyfriend should do? 

How can you keep the love of your life from running away from you?

Of course, he loved her and she wouldn’t believe this simple embryonic fact. 

Isn’t that the reason he always cried after hurting her?

She had to know that it hurt him as well to beat her. He was always on his knees, his head to the ground begging her, beseeching her to never leave him then why would she always complain that he was creating a scene?

Just because he did this once at a party, outside a movie theatre, inside a club when they had a small argument that escalated into something so big. Why couldn’t she just agree to everything he said?

She was so willful which is why it was important to tell her to do as he pleased or he’d go to her office and show everyone her dirty photographs.  

It happened just once or twice he couldn’t remember that he stood outside her house after a fight and screamed, shouted for her to forgive him and he might have called her a slut or whore but he never meant that. 

It was the only way she would see him because she was so afraid of scenes and dramas that just to contain them she did as he pleased and this he had found was his trump card.

Do as I say or I’ll beat you in front of your office people, and that’s it. She would do it because she was always so concerned what others might say or think of her. These trivial things never mattered to him, and he only did it because he loved her. How many times would he assert that?

She was once at a party looking radiant and had been too busy with her friends while I stood alone at the bar waiting for her to be with me.

She was smiling, looking beautiful, wearing heels. I despised those things but as many times that I told her to not go out dressed in such clothes with makeup and heels she’d do exactly that and maybe it was the annoyance of being left out which angered me or the fact that she never listened to me that I went up to her, deliberately introducing myself to her friends and held her waist, pinching her so hard my fingers hurt while she kept talking and smiling while wincing in pain and shaking; it almost calmed me.

I wasn’t a psycho like she always said I was. I just wanted her to feel how I felt. I knew she wouldn’t say a thing to me in front of everyone, in front of all her friends, pretending to be happy and fine while I pinched and pinched so hard that it had turned blue. She later showed me the bruise and the clot of blood over it and slapped me with all her might.

I got a knife and tore her dress and mounted her while she cried. But I did it to let her know how much I loved her. 

I love you I told her but she wouldn’t have any of it.

She’d not met me that weekend because she was spending time with her childhood friend in her house and it hurt me to think that she’d rather spend time with someone she knew forever as opposed to her boyfriend. 

Wasn’t it embarrassing for me to beg her for her time while crying on my knees in front of her friend? She looked disgusted and I feared she’d leave me, so I cried and begged and screamed in her house to the point that her friend had to leave.

I really worked hard for her, I did everything I could to keep her. 

Why wouldn’t she want me?

Once I’d opened the door of my car and thrown her out on the sidewalk because she argued with me because she requested me to let her be because she didn't want me. 

You can leave me I’d said to her and threw her out. She was dazed and I worried about her which is why I turned back my car and threw her phone at her so I could call her if she got lost. I was..I was always concerned about her. All the time.

She’d hurt herself a bit but it hurt me more that instead of coming back to me she ran in the opposite direction trying to hail a cab. 

 It was my quick thinking that I came back on time and told her to sit in the car or I’d come to her office and tear it apart laying her in the brickwork.

She believed me when I said these things because I was capable of doing it. 

So what if once I’d emptied a mug of beer on her head in a restaurant? It was her fault. She wouldn’t tell me about the man whom she’d greeted when we’d got in. 

Of course, a small incident like that wouldn’t get in the middle of our anniversary night and that she was wet with beer didn’t matter. 

We still had a good time. 

She often went awfully silent each night when I got on top of her but that’s only because women are shy.

I still keep the hair I’d pulled out of her head in a thick clump from above her ears when she once almost ran out to a policeman.

I’d caught her and dragged her back into the car and screamed in her face while I cried without realizing that I was still pulling at her hair with all my might so much so that I tore them off her scalp.

She’d bled and hit me in the face but I didn’t mind because she was upset. 

I will die if you leave me I’d told her.

She said being with me was killing her.

But that’s okay I’d told her. I’d not let her die because I loved her.

You don’t love me she said.

But this is my love I cried and she laughed while I choked her till she was blue in the face but she kept laughing.

I was afraid that night because she didn’t cry after I hit her. 

The next day on her way to work she disappeared.

She was sly that Uma. Changed jobs while I continued to pick and drop her outside her office thinking she still worked there and just like that she was gone.