The Tyrant's Trophy
Beauty

Maybell

When I was a child, my family called me ‘Bell’. It was a nickname given to me due to my love for ‘Beauty and the Beast.’ Also, it was short for Maybell.

Bell was my favorite Disney princess so having the same name (even if it wasn’t my true name) filled me with so much glee. And who would have thought that - like her highness - I, too, would fall in love with a prince charming of a man?

But that’s where my fairytale differs from Disney's. Bell went on to live happily ever after with the man who was once a beast. Phil was like his last name when we first met: A sweetheart. He was caring and gentle and had a passion for the oppressed and downtrodden. He would even take the time to care for the elders in our town. He was everything young girls dreamed a prince would be.

He took my breath away.

The first two years of marriage to the man were a dream until my prince morphed into the beast. Now it’s been a good nine years and my prince charming hasn’t returned to himself.

I don’t know how long I can keep this up.

My eyes were too swollen to open. As always, Phil was merciless, physically and verbally. The place where he bit me stung and was caked with dried blood. His permanent mark for me. A reminded me that he owned me.

Of course, he did because who else would want me?

I’m ugly and fat.

I’m lazy and too stupid to be anything important. The only thing I have going for me is my face. At least, that’s what Phil says, but I doubt it. My face was nothing special. My eyes were plain brown with dark circles under my lids. My cheeks were too chubby and squishy - a sign of fat and not to mention my complexion was way too sickly to be normal. The bruises made me look like Frankenstein too. Without makeup, I would be the enigma of a horror story.

Phil said, many times, that he would overlook these things if I kept my face pretty. So there was only one thing to do: fix it. With difficulty, I cracked my eyes open and immediately regretted it. Though the curtains were closed, light still peeked through the cracks and hit me directly in the face. I was bombarded with a horrible migraine.

I propped myself up with an arm, only to slip and fall off the couch. I shivered, feeling colder than usual. My whole body felt sensitive and off.

Phil was gone - at work most likely. It made me sad. Though he hurt me, I still longed for him. I still loved him and wished for him to just cuddle with me in bed. I just want to be held tenderly, like I was a precious jewel or a fragile gift.

Then again, can I blame him for not staying? I’m such a horrible wife and Phil just tolerates me.

Gritting my teeth, I forced my body off the floor. “I’ll make it up to him.” I determined, stifling a cry as the pain in my hips intensified. “You can do it, Bell.” I encouraged myself as I made my way to the showers step by step.

The short walk seemed to take forever but I made it and proceeded to turn on the faucet to its hottest setting. Once in the shower, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I sat on the tiled floor, feeling strangely winded. My body shivered.

“Get yourself together.” As much as I wanted, I couldn’t spend long in the shower. I had to clean the heck out of the couch and then get groceries. I’ll make Phil his favorite meal and while I’m at it - I’ll also get him his favorite wine! I’ll be extra sweet to him today.

That’ll be sure to appease him.

I vigorously scrubbed myself and repeated the action two more times. I just wanted to be extra clean. Afterward, I turned the water off and searched for clothes. Today’s outfit consists of a pastel blue poet shirt and brown high-waist pants. The shirt is loose enough to not irritate my injuries as well as able to conceal every bruise from the neck down.

The shirt was bigger than I expected as I put it on. It wasn’t this baggy when I first brought it but then again, it could be my imagination. Wishful thinking, maybe? I shrugged it off in lieu of makeup.

I frowned when I opened my foundation. I’m running low. Which means I’ll have to get some while I’m out. Grocery shopping is a simple task but crowds make me uneasy and the makeup section was like Chicago’s traffic: a nightmare to get through.

“Oh well. I need this stuff.”

The cleaning took longer than I’d wanted but it got done and I even managed to remove the bloodstains. Satisfied with my work, I grabbed my purse, keys, and bus pass. I had the pay app on my phone so I didn’t need a wallet. That and my husband is tight on money. He disliked me spending it frivolously. The only things he trusts me with money are the bills and food. These things give him headaches.

Something I want to avoid at ALL costs.

Now, this is where living in the city has its perks. There were groceries on almost every corner as well as buses. Sure, I had to wait for transportation and usually, it's full to the brim but at least it doesn’t stay that way for long.

In my hometown, everyone needs a car to get around. My mom used to joke that going to town on foot was the same path the Israelites had to take for the promised land. My mom always knew how to make me laugh. I sighed, remembering her as I boarded the bus.

Lately, I find myself missing her.

She was my best friend.

The ride was peaceful and luckily, it was the only one I needed to take. I decided to go to Pete’s since they had more selections of things to buy. Also, they sold Phil’s favorite wine.

As customary, I grabbed a cart to begin my journey. It didn’t take long to gather what was needed. I grabbed the wine last and continued my journey to the cash register. The line wasn’t as bad since it was still morning. I was next in line when a laugh caught my attention.

It came from the corner of the market; the part where the cafe area sat. I didn’t need to see who that laughter came from.

My husband sat at the café. He was in a booth near the window and a brunette sat with her back toward me. They had many bags around them, evidence of their shopping.

Phil wasn't supposed to be here.

He was supposed to be working.

Saturdays are his longest days at work, according to him, but here he is…with some high schooler. And he was sweet to her, laughing while holding her hand. He lifted the appendage to his lips and gave it a romantic smooch.

Something he hasn’t done to me in ages.

Due to my short stature, I blended well with the crowd. Phil never noticed me as I tore my eyes away and paid for the groceries. He didn’t notice my eyes watering and I doubt he would care about this sudden stabbing in my chest.

When I made it to the bus, my phone vibrated.

‘Won’t be home. Work needs me to do an all-nighter. Get my laundry done.’ - Phil.

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