Abuse is not entirely visible and affiliated with person’s flesh and bones sporadically it bangs a person’s instinct, cognitive and devastate it’s abstract leaving a mark on its psyche. Consider it truthful, it hurts you dreadfully.
… That night was not an unusual one, hours of darkness encompassing peace and ataraxia. Roads were as silent as grave, portraying the absence of mankind. Not many but a few wild animals were spotted as they howled and barked! Except the wildlife, the neighborhood was sketching a canvas of calm and composed zone.
Rhythm of sleep, intruded by the clangour and clink of steel and glass, demanded my close attention. Eye shut was turned into consciousness. Grouping my energy to exit from my duvet in such wintry, frosty temperature was really hefty.. But the expanding clamour grant me a courage to do so. Treading down from the pair of stairs, wending my way through stateroom I terminated my tread on the further side of a vermillion, cherry-red blind that was making an unfocused, a bit dim and to some degree, foggy picture.
My eyeballs were damped, drawing a more vague depiction- even then I had the comprehensible cognizance of the action…
This was not unwonted, I am a victim who has been witnessing these brawls like cat and dog since I was more than thirteen. The boyhood that desires for exceptional warmth and a powerfull bond of youngsters with their natural parents. I must re-utter my words “… With their natural parents”. Regrettably, our source of income, means of support was a male who was a step-dad to me.
When a prominent theorizer pronounced; “It takes a strong man to accept somebody else’s children and step up to the plate another man left on the table”– I perceived it deeply.
He was brutal towards me and bloodthirsty towards my mom. Vessel rupture, cries and clamour was a usual.. That midnight my mommy was abused. Screams were ear splitting. Despite of all her efforts, it was all in vain. My father was ruthless while mama was helpless and so do I was. Currently, my age is sum of sixteen and one still I can’t let slip all those years. I was hand tied. He always scared me and tried to bullied me with my mom. Whatever I say to my blood relatives, it was unhelpful even impossible because my dad was playing a role of angel in front of my mama’s sisters and brothers. During these four years my mama was maltreated and my emotions were abused..
Encountering with the emotions of fear, I always wanted to leave. We attempted to get away to make a good escape many times, but were unsuccessful.
Possibly, we had been victorious but the obstacle was ‘dad started to lock us up, while he was out…
I was low in spirits like a sitting duck and my mommy was miserable as a clay pigeon… woefully, no exist was there.
Unbalanced in my emotions, lacking self confidence and getting timid was un focusing my uniqueness even to me.
….. I always took a fancy to rescue me and my precious mom from this enclosure and take a deep breath under the cobalt, navy blue sky with it’s generous external surroundings.
Author: Zersha Ali Sheikh