*PART TWO OF 'A True Indian Cinderella'*
Meeya continues her struggle as a neglected child. Hoping one day to find her true love! Farim struggles hard to battle loneliness and suffers bad things.
WILL THEY GET BACK TOGETHER OR WOULD THEY CONTINUE T...
The sound of my mother's thundering footsteps sent a shiver of dread down my spine. I gripped Fatima Aunty's hand tightly, my knuckles turning white, as the woman I once called "Mom" appeared at the top of the stairs, her eyes wild with rage.
"There you are, you ungrateful wretch!" she spat, her voice dripping with venom. "How dare you try to undermine me in my own home?"
Before I could even react, she lunged forward, her bony fingers latching onto my arm in a vice-like grip. I cried out in pain as she yanked me down the stairs, Fatima Aunty's desperate pleas falling on deaf ears.
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Once we reached the living room, my mother's assault intensified. She shoved me to the ground, her fists raining down blows on my cowering form. Each strike felt like a shard of glass tearing into my flesh, and I curled in on myself, praying for the onslaught to end.
"You think you can just waltz in here and ruin everything?" she screeched, her nails clawing at my face. "This is my house, my life, and you will not take it from me!"
Tears streamed down my cheeks as I begged for mercy, my voice barely audible over the sickening thud of her fists against my body. The world seemed to fade away, consumed by the overwhelming agony that engulfed me.
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Time lost all meaning as the beating continued, each moment stretching into an eternity of suffering. I could feel the warmth of my own blood trickling down my skin, and the salty taste of it on my lips only fueled my mother's rage.
Finally, the blows began to subside, and I was left curled on the floor, trembling and gasping for breath. My mother loomed over me, her chest heaving, her eyes wild and unforgiving.
"This is what you get for defying me," she hissed, before turning on her heel and storming away, leaving me in a crumpled heap of agony and misery.
Summoning what little strength I had left, I dragged myself to the nearest corner, where I curled up and wept, the pain and anguish overwhelming me. Sleep eventually claimed me, but it offered no respite – only the lingering echoes of my mother's rage and the dull, throbbing ache that consumed my battered body.
The overwhelming pain that coursed through my body was all-consuming, a relentless symphony of anguish that seemed to rend my very soul. Each breath I drew was a struggle, the simple act of expanding my lungs setting off a fresh wave of torment.
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As I lay curled in the corner, I could feel the warm stickiness of blood on my skin, a testament to the savage beating I had endured. My face was swollen and tender, and I knew that the bruises that were surely blossoming across my flesh would only intensify in the coming days.
With great effort, I managed to shift my weight, wincing as a sharp jolt of agony shot through my ribs. I feared that some may have been cracked, or perhaps even broken, under the relentless assault of my mother's fists.
The memory of her hateful words and the pure, unadulterated rage in her eyes haunted me, a vicious specter that refused to be banished. How could the woman who had once cradled me in her arms now look upon me with such unbridled contempt?
A sob escaped my lips, the sound of it muffled by the ringing in my ears. I wanted nothing more than to curl up and disappear, to escape the torment that had become my daily existence. But I knew that respite would not come easily, not while I remained under my mother's roof, at the mercy of her volatile temper.
As the darkness of the night crept in around me, I shivered, both from the chill and the lingering fear that my mother's wrath had not been fully spent. Each creak of the floorboards above sent a fresh jolt of terror through my battered body, and I found myself holding my breath, waiting for the inevitable return of her heavy footsteps.
Sleep, when it finally came, offered no solace. My dreams were plagued by the echoes of my mother's voice, the sting of her blows, and the overwhelming sense of helplessness that had consumed me. I awoke, time and time again, drenched in a cold sweat, my heart pounding in my chest.
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Hey guys!!
I know.. it's deep. But. we come out as survivors don't we? If you liked this chapter and want to see more, please show some love by voting, liking, AND COMMENT DOWN WHAT YOU THINK HAPPENED NEXT!!
