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AYESHA
I was trembling in HIS arms, pinned between him and the wall, feeling completely trapped. His hand covered my lips, silencing any protest I might have had. The rush of fear flooded through me as I sensed a strange smell, unmistakably alcohol. Realization hit me like a ton of bricks; He was drunk.
My intuition proved correct as his actions became erratic, driven by some elusive emotion reminiscent of that fateful night. Panic consumed me as he drew nearer, his lack of control terrifying me. With a surge of adrenaline, I pushed him away and fled, my heart racing as I bolted up the stairs to safety.
Breathless and sweating, I collapsed into the room, grappling with the shock of the encounter.
"Who was that intoxicated stranger, towering over me?" Disgust churned in my stomach as I recoiled from the memory of his foul odor, staining the air.
The lingering scent of alcohol continued to assault my senses, making me feel queasy. I hurried to the bathroom, my hand pressed against my mouth, desperate to rid myself of the nauseating smell. Standing before the washbasin, I turned on the tap, letting the water flow over my hands before splashing it onto my face, hoping to wash away the remnants of the unsettling encounter.
"What was that shadow in this house, oh God! How will I ever cope?" I muttered, struggling to compose myself.
After some time, feeling somewhat refreshed, I emerged from the bathroom. Gazing at my mother's photo on the table, a pang of loneliness washed over me.
"I miss you, Mamma! Look at how lost I am without you," I whispered, seeking solace in her memory.
Engaging in a one-sided conversation with my mother's photograph for a moment, I then retrieved my diary from my bag.
Writing had always been a source of comfort for me, a way to unload the burdens of my mind onto paper. With each stroke of the pen, I felt a weight lift from my shoulders, bringing me a sense of relief amidst the chaos.
Next Morning -
As the morning light filtered through the curtains, I stirred from my slumber at the sound of a gentle knock on my door. Rising from the bed, I crossed the room to find a woman dressed in servant's attire waiting outside.
"Good morning, ma'am! My name is Julia. Breakfast is ready downstairs. Would you like to join us, or shall I bring it up for you?" she inquired with polite courtesy.
Unaccustomed to such attentive service, I couldn't help but feel a sense of unease. Nonetheless, I managed a hesitant response.
"No, it's alright. I'll freshen up and come down," I replied, watching as Julia nodded and departed.
Closing the door behind her, I leaned against it, feeling overwhelmed by the unfamiliarity of it all.
"Phew! Everything feels so different here. I wonder how long it'll take to adapt to their customs," I murmured to myself, trying to steady my nerves.
