The game had started again. I am the game. The abuse, the beatings, the restrictions on clothes…the list never ended.
This had been my life as long as I could remember. No friends, restricted contact with the outside world, not showing your emotions, being a robot basically.
I was forced to believe that I am weird and abnormal. My rebellious nature made my mother physically sick, worried my father and gifted me ignorance from my brother.
I was sly enough to use either my parents or my brother’s phone and google whatever I felt. I knew it was not the best way but I had nothing else. My symptoms as per google were due to anxiety and depression. I tried the self help but it did not help me. I just could not see what was wrong in me.
It is ironical that a mental health disorder where you avoid human contact can only be cured by one. But then I had no one.
Over a period of time my parents had resigned themselves to my rebellious nature, which in turn reduced the abuse but did not end it. They told me to be grateful and I wondered for what? Abuse even if once in six months is still abuse. Not understanding a person over many years is still abuse. If this is my life now, I feared what would happen after marriage, though I did not realize at that time, I was not made for one.
When people who matter and who are to know you the best, say something negative, it leaves a lasting impression. Because you tend to believe it.
It was strange to know, that not believing in what they believe made me a person who can be used and thrown, a person who has not suffered enough to learn all the life lessons, a person who just did not deserve love.
What made me write this before leaving was the fact that my marriage was fixed without my opinion and I had finally decided to run away.
Sitting next to the window, with the wind blowing on my face, made me feel liberated, especially more since my dear brother had a change of heart and was gently snoring in the seat next to mine.
I could suddenly see a future for myself, where I could just be myself, without any restrictions.
We finally got down at our destination and looking at the restaurant on the opposite road, I suddenly felt ravenous. We entered the restaurant, and it not being a peak hour ordered immediately before I excused myself to use the washroom.
“No Dad…He does not have a boyfriend, and I have put a tracker in his bag”. I overheard my brother speaking to our father. He had his back to me and had noticed me yet.
My heart broke in the Silence that followed. I would never be free, never be able to live the life I dreamt of or even be happy. My life flashed in front of my eyes, and all I could see was nothing, just a void stretching for eternity. At the same time I could see life moving on around me as if nothing has changed. In that moment I had my clarity, and I jumped in front of the speeding truck…
PS: I have deliberately left the ending open for interpretation. I personally would like to believe that the protagonist lives. We, normal people cannot truly understand the feelings of the one being abused. The ending here was just to jar your core. We always appreciate the courage of people who break the cycle of abuse and come out of it stronger. This story is dedicated to those unnamed people, who are still stuck in that cycle. It requires a different kind of courage to be stuck in the cycle and still live on.