Because You Loved Me: Part 3.



How long has this been going on?


Answer me!”

Linda held her husband by the lapel of his coat and shook him harder than the most intense earthquake can be.

“I can’t believe you did this to us.” She continued, I don’t know you anymore”

But Mark why! Why!

She snatched his pone and hurled it to the wall breaking it into shards of screen glasses and plastic pieces.

All the while, Mark stood, speechless. Contained in patience and a wear of the earlier stupor.

“Aren’t you going to talk? Won’t you say sorry?” She continued, yelling on his face. Mark being who he is and knowing that saying sorry would only escalate the yelps to a higher level, kept damn. Silent. Boiling inside.

“You won’t get off t easy.

Who is she?

Mark who is she? Uh!” Her voice hit the ceiling echoing back to more silence.

“OK. You win.”

She said and sat, supporting her chin with both hands. Shaking her legs in thoughts. Silent. For a few moments. Obviously thinking of the next key to unlock this maze. Then furry and hurt got the better of her, again. She picked a padlock from the table and threw it to the face of the TV, cracking it with lightning and mulfunction.

She pushed Mark to a boiling point.

How many of his stuff would she destroy in his watch? Not so many.

He stood with the pace of a Flash Gordon, the chivalry of a knight and the fury of a MAD MAX (Do you remember MAX from furry roads?)

Mark was that mad.

He pounced on Linda without a warning, with slaps and jabs and kicks (Like you would hit a chicken thief. With no mercy); on the face, in the ribs, on all vulnerable parts of the body.

And when he stopped, Linda’s face was all blood and swells.

She lay helpless on the floor. Her cloths torn. Her wig on one corner of the living room, her broken tooth the other. Tearing blood and drooling more blood.

“Fuck you!” He said and spat on her worthless body

“Fuck You! You can leave if you want to. I don’t care. In fact, you should leave. NOW! Slut.” He shouted.

On a second thought, he shook his head and waddled out in haste, leaving her, drowning in her sobs.

Perhaps gone back to the vile street (Ogada street). Who knows. He didn’t promise never to go back!

Did he?



Mark came back in the morning, still drunk but at least sober enough to tell the difference between a broken TV and blood on the floor. He stormed into the bedroom for his wife.


“Babe… Someone vandalized our stuff. (Then he noticed the swells on her face) Oh my GOD! Did they hurt you? This is so bad! Why didn’t you call me honey?”


Come on. Think of it. And please don’t give me that no comment crap! Did Mark forget beating his wife after a few drinks?

Leave your thoughts.

Note: – This is the final piece of because you loved me. We end it in style tomorrow.