The divorce-mare

Terrified- Chapter 1

"Why do I always have to find fault in everything you do. For once do your job properly. How many times have I told you, do it with your whole will and heart. But no, you just want to get finished what so ever so that you can enjoy your spare time. You're always trying to be as these British girls outside"

"No mother, I am trying to work as well as I can and I am doing it with my whole will, I promise"

"Do you call this the best way to work", she said by showing me the coffee mug that I accidently broke while washing the dishes.

"No mother I didn't mean to break it", I tried

"I don't care what you meant by this action. The point is, you broke it and after doing so you still have the audacity to protect yourself in front of me!" she shrieked while the fire of anger was clearly being visible in her brown orbs.

"No mother I am not protecting my..., I didn't get the chance to complete my sentence because the thing that happened next just made all the words disappear from my mouth. It was like someone had stolen my ability to talk, As if I was flying free in the air and this action threw me back to the ground, by telling me that this was my real belonging.

Slap* "This is because you broke the cup on purpose"

Slap* "This is because you then had the courage to look at me in the eyes and then try to protect the fault you made"

Slap* "This is because your lying"

And likewise so she carried on hitting me in the face with those pathetic excuses that actually were wrong. But there was no use to explain because it never worked, it never had and never will do. For every time she kept hitting me it felt like I was sinking. That I was sinking down in earth more and more, that more darkness was being reveled. But I somehow felt safe, to finally get occupied by the darkness, to finally disappear from this beautiful yet painful light. Because the next thing I saw before she could hit me for the fourth time was my terrified reflection in the mirror when I suddenly woke up.

My palms were sweaty and my whole body was trembling with fair. My body was extremely warm and I could feel the goosebumps rise from my muscles called calves to my biceps and finally up to my cheeks. That made the temperature in my body raise further more. It was as if someone had put me on fire. When I looked at my reflection in the mirror I could clearly see that my face had a terrifying expression. My long chocolate brown hair was in a messy ponytail which made a lot of my hair shaft fall in front of my face. Meanwhile, the sweat was streaming down from my forehead to my big pink swollen lips as they finally fell down and reached my both hands that were tightly held together by each other. My reflection started to get a bit blur because tears were starting to fill up in my emerald green eyes.

Yes, I was the only one who had green eyes in my family while the rest of them all including my siblings had brown once. Although it might be very special, this didn't actually make me that special, At least in a positive way. In fact I was special in a very negative way. Sounds crazy right? We'll let med demonstrate. My birth didn't bring forth that much happiness in my parents' life. They fell in huge debts and were forced to sell their little restaurant and move out from London to a little city nearby the cost. My mother hated that city from the very begging and always wanted to go back to London. But apparently it didn't happen because my father had a lot of economic problems which he had to deal with. We had our times when we didn't have that much money to at least fill our fridge with some milk and other provisions. My father started to fall in more debts by the upcoming days, this due to the fact that he didn't have money to pay back all accommodations. Nothing was going well. But when my younger sister Amira was born, suddenly everything changed. My father's restaurant started to work really well. As the time passed by he soon payed back all his loans and we bought our own house in that town.

But my mother still wanted to come back to London. That dream of hers became true when my sister fill 6 years old. We shifted back to the main city in London and my father bought a restaurant here which is going quite good until today, Alhamdulillah. Well this made my sister a bit more appreciated and accepted among my parents and my elder brother Ali. When I was a bit less accepted and appreciated. I was and am still the last one picked among the child's, always the one who get blamed for any cause and always left out by my parents, specially my mother.

She always wanted the perfect daughter which apparently she didn't see within me. That's the reason to why she was and still is very strict with me. Although it might be from how I am as a person, what I do to what I want to be. But if I did something wrong or in general, I never had any physical torture. It was more of the mental torture I was caused and its true when people say that physical harm can heal but your tongue is a sword that can make you scared throughout your whole life. But my mother somehow still loves me and I do to.

But a question bothering me right now is why I could feel the pain of physical torture. I always thought that it wouldn't hurt to have physical torture, but it did hurt. Maybe that's the reason to why I became so terrified. But although this just was a dream, I could still feel the pain in my cheekbones. Why?

When I looked at myself in the mirror again, my face was tomato red because I had cried. I guess the tears were hard to fight back, as always.

"Come one Aliyah it was just a dream" I whispered to myself in comfort while tears still were streaming down my face along with the sweat.

"You're stronger then this you know that trust Allah and his plans because wearily he is the best planners" I said in a more loud voice. I then started to whip away the tears that somehow were still streaming down my face. I remade my ponytail and started to collect myself by breathing in and out. That's when I realized that the daylight had reached in to almost all of the corners to my room and had made the light blue color prominently shine on the walls. My room was normal sized with a single bed attached to wall. Above the bed was the window which had white curtains. In front of the bed was a mirror wall which were hiding wardrobes behind it and finally I had a little study desk attached to the wall opposite to the wall with my bed.

I looked at the clock on my nightstand and that's when I shrieked.

"Its 10:30 am. Ya Allah! I need to get up"

But before I could completely get off of my bed, the door to my room flung open and my emerald green eyes came across those brown orbs.