Escaping With Eve

My mentally impaired brother married a young, beautiful woman.

She was a college graduate, kind and sensible. In just three years, she already had three kids. 

My dad couldn’t stop smiling, always boasting to everyone about what a great daughter-in-law he had.

However, I knew the truth.

.........

Every night, she would quietly sneak into my bed.

I pressed my hands hard over my ears, curling up in bed. However, the sharp, agonizing cries still cut through the thick walls, stabbing into my heart.

It went on for a while before, finally, the noise from the main house faded away, and the night returned to its unsettling silence.

The door to my room creaked open.

Unsteady footsteps echoed closer.

I opened my eyes. It was her—my sister-in-law, Eve.

Her hair was a mess; her cheeks were red and swollen, and her eyes dull and lifeless. She had her arms wrapped tightly around her body, her fingers pale from the pressure.

She was trembling, climbing into my bed as if it were second nature.

I moved instinctively, helping her unbutton her clothes.

Her body was covered in painful-looking bite marks, some spots even oozing blood.

New bruises littered her back, and her slender waist still bore the imprint of a shoe.

My heart ached as I grabbed the medicinal balm and gently applied it to her skin.

Her body jerked as soon as it touched her wounds. She bit down on her lip hard, beads of sweat forming on her forehead.

“Don’t hold it in, Eve. If it hurts, cry out,” I said as I looked at her with care.

She shook her head slightly, her voice raspy. “It’s fine. He didn’t get his way tonight.”

A bitter feeling rose inside me.

“Is this how it’ll always be, Eve?”

She looked at me with a firm gaze. “Emma, you have to find a way out. Only by getting out of here will you be able to study, work, and do whatever you want.”

I stared at her, confused.

“But... don’t I need to have sons?”

She gave me a sad smile and patted my hair.

“No. Having children is your choice, not an obligation. You can have them if you want, or not. It’s up to you.”

“Eve, do you want to go home?”

Her eyes reddened instantly.

She stayed silent for a long time before letting out a deep sigh. Then she wrapped her arms around me, patting my back gently like I was a child.

“Go to sleep, Emma. We have to get up early to chop wood tomorrow.”

The pale moonlight filtered through the thin, paper-covered windows, casting a soft light on her face.

She was only twenty-two, but the corners of her eyes were already lined with fine wrinkles. Her face was etched with exhaustion and weariness.

She didn’t look like this when I first met her.

Her real name was Evelyn Anderson.

She must’ve been the shining light in her family’s eyes.

Four years ago, she