Chapter 113 - I Was Eight When... (2)

||Innaya||

"Hold me, please," I whispered, but I knew Eshan would hear and he did. He shifted me little in his arms, and instead of my back to him, I was facing him sideways. I tucked my head under his chin and wrapped myself around him. I needed this closeness. 

Otherwise, I would have shied away, but this time it was the solace I was seeking for willingly.

For a minute, I just listened to the beating of Eshan's heart. Focussing on the sound of his heartbeat, I tuned out other voices in my head.

"My mother had eloped with my–" I stopped as I could not bring myself to associate that man with any relationship. I continued after a brief pause, "They got married. He was not rich. He belonged to the middle-class family, and his parents had passed away in a car accident before I was born. Grandpa never approved him for Mom, but after I was born, he accepted us. Everything was good; we were living in an apartment in Dubai. We were happy or so was what I thought..."

A small smile tugged at my lips as those happy days started resurfacing. At that time too, I was closer to my Grandpa than to anyone else. The smile was wiped out of my face the moment I recalled the time when everything started falling apart. 

Perhaps Eshan sensed my distress because he rubbed my forearm and dropped a fleeting kiss on my hair. He gave me time to gather myself. He did not probe either he stopped me, he just sat with me. 

I resumed revealing in the details I could remember, "When I was eight, Grandma fell ill. Mom had to leave for Bangalore. She couldn't take me with her, and I do not remember why. Everything changed that night. I was waiting for d- him to come home, I had made some painting, and I wanted to show that to him." 

An involuntary shudder ran through my mind as I continued, "He came. He had brought that woman with him. Accidently I had knocked down the glass while bringing him water. That night he- slapped me saying- I was..." Tears gathered in my eyes, and I could not help, but sob in Eshan's chest. It was the first time I saw someone getting angry, raising a voice let alone a hand on me. 

'You careless brat.'

'Don't you dare to shed those crocodile tears, you pathetic excuse for a human being.'

'GET THE HELL OUT OF MY SIGHT YOU –'

I could not bring myself to tell those words to Eshan, they would not get out of the mouth as if they were stuck there. That day something broke within me as a child, and that continued breaking until I was shattered into the innumerable pieces. Other vile taunts rammed into my memory that almost had me shuddering. I trembled as even after all those years his words still affected me. 

No matter how hard I had tried, those words were a constant reminder of that horrible time. I wished that no child ever had to go through the phase where your family hurts you.

Eshan's fingers running through my hair, gently massaging my scalp helped me to blink back my tears. I sagged against his chest and focussed on his heartbeat, it somehow was soothing my bruised self. For reliving that agonizing period, I needed every ounce of security he could provide. 

"After that, it became routine. He would yell at me for small things. Sometimes for nothing and that woman— she also joined him. Mom was on and off to Bangalore. He assured her that. I was well taken care of and the woman... another woman he brought was caretaker for me. For almost half a year they slowly tortured me... broke me with their words. I was so scared." I closed my eyes as I tried to suppress my sob. I still could not forget that fear. I needed to hold it in together till I told him everything. 

"They wouldn't give me food, would lock me in the dark room. Once, that woman locked me up on the terrace. Outside in the rain. The whole night I cried calling for mom, but she never came." I broke into another sob, and this time my whole body shook with the force. I did not want to cry. I wanted to stay strong. So many years had passed. I thought it would not hurt that much. It seemed 

I was wrong in thinking that. It still affected me, and in the worst way possible.

"How dare you eat this?"

"Don't have any manners."

"You shouldn't have come in this world. You are a bad omen."

"Dare you, speak a single word."

"This is your punishment. You will stay locked up in the storeroom until you learn your lesson."

"You will eat this or stay hungry for all I care."

"You ungrateful brat, you won't get any food."

"You ugly girl, go and stay in your room."

I cried recalling horrors of that year, horrors of their words. I had never felt so scared until then, the whole night the thunder had kept striking, cold wind had nipped my skin, and I had lost myself in the darkness crying for my mother. 

I had blamed my mother for leaving me alone.

I had blamed her for not looking after me.

I had blamed her for believing his words.

I had blamed her for marrying him. 

I had blamed Grandpa for falling ill.

I had blamed him for not coming to meet me.

I had blamed myself for being his daughter.

I had blamed myself for being so pathetic.

I clutched the neckline of his blue T-shirt and hid in the confines of his arms. I blocked my ears with my hand as it became unbearable for me. That was one of the worst nights of my life. What kind of inhumane heart that woman must have possessed to lock the child outside, without food or shelter?

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