Suppressed

When the pain became hard for her to bear, she broke her walls and let it out. That taught her to fight.

Smack. The sound of her palm coming in contact with my cheek reverberated through the light grey walls of the small, confined room. My feet lost balance and I collapsed on the cold, wooden floor as the pain shot across my cheek, ensuring me that an imprint of that cold-hearted slap had been left on it.

I’ve been a victim of physical abuse since 3 years. My whole body had been traumatized by my attacker’s cold hands, which would injure me in every way they could, putting their full strength into that one purpose of letting out the frustration and grief through abuse on me.

After my father's death three years ago, my mother had experienced misery at its extreme, and had become a prey of depression and insomnia. Those puffy, swollen, red eyes and the pale, skinny face were proof to the fact that she was drowned in immense grief. But what I could never even imagine came out as a bitter truth and victimized me as it had done to my mother.

She had abused me for the first time when I was twelve, and the look on her face while beating me is still so freshly etched on my mind, that I can draw every single detail accurately; the slight wrinkle lines, pale lips and pale face with the puffy, red eyes and the distant look in them.

After finding out that my mother had been consuming drugs, and was not in her real state when she abused me, my life took a sharp turn. I lost my liveliness and my blithesome personality, and lived on anti-depressants. My bony, scarred and wounded face displayed the turmoil my father had left me in.

The abuse had not only scarred my body; it had emotionally scarred me too. It was not before my heart was crumpled with the weight of the concealed misery I was so scared to reveal, that I realized it was time for me to let it all out.  My best friend, Neeta, provided the warmth and comfort I desperately craved for.

Instead of mourning and complaining, I realized it was high time I stood up for myself. The only way to escape the abuse was to send my mother to a rehabilitation centre. I knew this was the best I could do for her, and no matter how long it took, I was ready for it.

The one year that I spent apart from my mother tested a lot of my patience. I knew that what I did was best for her, but sometimes I got worried when the idea of how she must be coping with the treatment crossed my mind. Neeta supported me a lot, and she played a great role in giving me the courage to deal with the situation.

“I know I should have tried to face your father’s death, and help you go through the painful experience as well. I'm so sorry, Jess. I'm so sorry," my mother was saying between the sobs that had become a part of her everyday routine ever since she came back from the Rehabilitation Center, good as before.

She regretted consuming drugs, and she apologized to me a lot. She was angry with herself on the fact that she was not able to bear my father's death, and she was surprised at her cowardice. We both reminisced father's death but we never let the pain and anguish take over our hearts completely and deprive us of the happiness we could feel.

If there is one thing I’ve learned from this sorrowful experience of mine, it’s that only you can bring a change in your life. You have to give yourself the strength to get by an agonizing and painful experience, because that is the only way you can bring light to the darkness that takes over your heart, and that light can lead you to the contented and joyful side of life.

I kept my grief and sorrow buried in my heart for a long time. Eventually, my heart began to crumple under the weight of that pain, and with that, the walls that I had built around me that repelled anyone who tried to enter began to break and I gave in. I revealed my secret and my heart instantly felt light as the burden was lifted off it. That was when I discovered that you have to put your trust in someone and open up about your life, or the load will shatter your heart to bits and pieces that will be hard to collect and put together, and your lips will lose the ability to curve themselves into a bright smile, because that load is able to drench your life in sadness and sorrow. After all, the only way out is through.

 

Author's Note

This is the first story I've written. It might be boring and uninteresting, but it's just a start. Hopefully, and with the will of God, I'll write better and far more interesting stories. Looking forward to support. :)

Reviews

[matrixmark]

Very good short story, I like what it goes from to what it goes to (if that makes any sense). The words you use at the beggining, explaining about the full force behind the punishment were very hard hitting for me. The first two paragraphs in particular drew me to read more. It's terrible to think that this kind of thing goes on but your use of words were compelling and true.

Keep it up.

Mark

[AnayaJ.]

Thankyou so much. I'm in the middle of writing another one. Hope it'll be just as good. Thanks again for the support. :)