Escape

In my memory, Daniel Smith’s father was a gambler and an alcoholic. He would get drunk all day long, then use a belt to whip him, commanding him to obey his every move. That would give him a sense of pleasure that the weak and powerless him had never experienced in a world and life that had never obeyed him.

Every time the whip lashed from his waist, a nightmare would descend.

I met him when I was six years old. It was the welcome party for new students at elementary school. My mother specifically dressed me in a beautiful red dress with a black belt around my waist. I loved it!

In the lively environment, he appeared oddly indifferent. His long, unkempt hair covered his bangs, blocking his view. At only six years old, he seemed unusually gloomy.

With courage, I approached him, the boy with an alternative style. He looked at the black belt on me, hidden beneath his bangs, fear apparent in his eyes. At that time, I didn’t understand those emotions.

“Do you like this belt? It was specially wrapped around me by my mother. If you like it, I can give it to you!”

I was willing to exchange my most precious possession for a friend.

“No, I don’t like it, not at all,” he stepped back and repeatedly refused.

I thought for a moment, took off the belt from myself, and threw it into the nearby storage basket. Boldly, I held his hand with a playful smile.

“Well, I won’t wear it then! Can you play with me? I don’t have any friends to play with. Can you be my best friend?”

He hesitated, then nodded while looking at the black belt in the basket.

Little did I know that the belt would be used on me, turning into my nightmare.

He stood atop the highest peak, looking down on everything, yet afraid of my distantness. Each instance of neglect made the weak and powerless him raise the belt in his hand, experiencing a pleasure he had never received from my unquestioning obedience.

I met him when we were young, and we became childhood friends. Others saw us as childhood sweethearts, unable to resist the romantic fantasies of youth. Although love has its absurdities, Cupid’s arrow could always find its mark on the perfect couple, including us.

Even in university, we continued to play together. Hearing one of our names would always bring the other to mind. Recently, I often heard a few phrases from friends: an immortal couple, a match made in heaven.

After more than ten years of childhood affection for him, during our senior year of university, he confessed his feelings to me. Finally, his wish came true, and we became a couple.

He was naturally silent, and I was lively and outgoing, a perfect complement in love.

I thought our love was perfect.

Everyone also had high hopes for this love, including me.

That period of time was the happiest I had ever experienced, as if I was the chosen one by fate, gaining the love I had always dreamed of. After graduation, I also found success in my career.

His career was like a magnificent skyscraper, surrounded by a dense jungle at the bottom, while he stood at the very top. His innovative architectural designs made him an overnight sensation. He was naturally talented, but it brought me many worries.

I thought with his wealth and success, he might no longer look at me, a small designer. However, when he was at the pinnacle of his fame, he proposed to me on bended knee, making me his legal wife in front of a crowd of thousands.

Everyone said I married a talented man, someone who possessed both striking looks and immense wealth. They said I was lucky, that my fate was better than anyone else’s.

Under the overwhelming public opinion, even I began to believe that this was my destiny, my luck, rather than something I had earned with my own hands.

Eventually, I couldn’t bear the pressure anymore. I couldn’t even focus on my work. But he didn’t care and let me resign. However, he didn’t want me to be a full-time housewife either. Instead, he insisted on staying at home with me every day, entertaining and playing with me. At times, I thought I had returned to my childhood.

But at that time, I was naive and ignorant. Later, I realized I had fallen into a hellish trap. I forever lost the wings of freedom as I was locked in a narrow cage, looking at the blue sky just beyond reach.

Every time I reached out my hand, the black belt would descend from above and whip me, leaving me bruised and battered, warning me not to reach out again.

Since then, he would deliberately instill thoughts in me.

I belonged to him, forever and always. My life was his, everything was his.

His terrifying possessiveness tormented me to the point of breakdown.

“You are mine!”