The sky wept, mirroring the silent screams of Ashley Johnson. Outside, thunder roared, a defiant challenge to the incessant rain. Inside, the sound of sizzling flesh mingled with Ash's choked sobs as her husband, Michael, pressed a scorching iron onto her hand. "You are good for nothing. I cursed the day I married you," he hissed, his eyes glinting with a cruel satisfaction.

Ash begged, tears blurring her vision, her voice a desperate whisper. It was an accident, scorching his shirt while he demanded his bath. But accidents meant nothing to Michael; only opportunities for torment. He shoved her injured hand away, a red, throbbing mess, and disappeared into the bathroom.

Left alone on the cold floor, Ash picked herself up, her hopes shattered like glass. This was their marriage, a knot that had become a noose. The man she vowed to love had become a monster, his hatred a constant, suffocating presence. She moved to find the first-aid box, her hand already forming an ugly blister, another scar to add to the countless ones scarring her soul.

Later, as Michael left for work, she sat by the window, letting raindrops kiss her face. The loneliness, her only companion. But then, a strange urge pulled her outside, into the downpour. Relief washed over her as the rain drenched her, cleansing. She closed her eyes, and for the first time in two years, a genuine smile touched her lips. The pain in her hand ceased, the loud clouds soothing her nerves. Oddly, she felt alive.