My Dearest Rival

49.Sangeeta

All my life, i thought i was unlucky one. I thought my life was mess, i thought only God is punishing me, i thought every bad thing only happened to me. All my life was a lie. There are people out there whose lives are more miserable than mine. I've always thought i was the strongest one, the one who suffered a lot but i was wrong and i fucking hate this that i was wrong.

My husband, my childhood friend, my enemy has the worst kind of past. His suffering cannot be explained in words. The man suffered a lot yet he never said anything. Now i understand his love for those poor kids, his love for donation, his hate for his father. Now i can understand why love those workers, his way of making friends. He was alone, he needed someone but no one was there so he decided to not let anyone else feel the same way. Now everything is as clear as crystal.

I am still in shock after hearing his story. This story, his past breaks me into millions of pieces.

Firstly his mother's husband beat him, the his own parents ignored him and then his mother died in front of him and then the worst part came, his own, his fucking real father raped him.

My heart breaks for him. He was just a child. How could God do this to him?

"D---did you called me that day to tell me about this?" I opened my mouth slowly.

"That was the day i decided to tell you truth. I was done with the pain. I needed help." he didn't opened his eyes yet i can see his pain behind those close eyes. I can feel how much broken he is, how much he wants to cry again and again. I can understand what he is going through or perhaps not. I was supposed to help him that day but i didn't because i had my own problems.

He hated me because i couldn't saved him from that monster, i wasn't there when he needed me.

"Why would he d------?" I couldn't complete my line when his eyes snapped in my direction, giving me chills all over my body.

"He wanted revenge. He was angry because i couldn't save mom's life. He nearly broked my two bones that day, even he was about to push me over the wall. He didn't wanted to see me again. To make himself calm, he slapped me. His diamond ring smashed my face and i still have those marks all over my body" he says.

I remained silent, not knowing what to say or do. This man, who is lying on my lap has gone through a lot and he never complains about it. He never said a single word regarding his situation. He has always been kind to other no matter what's going on in his damn life.

I remember how he used to treat everyone in the classroom like they were his siblings. Yes he was naughty but he never showed any disrespectful towards anyone. He has never behaved in a wrong way.

"For the first time when he raped me, i was left with nothing. I felt like he has stolen a major part of life, i was lifeless, incomplete. He not only stole a part of my life but only stole my precious childhood. I was alone, shattered and broke. I tried telling my dad about this. Trust me i tried very hard but yet i couldn't. He told me to hurt my friend just like he hurted me so i kept silent and didn't said a word. I never dared to talk about this to anyone. It was daily routine for me"
He completes.

More tears spread all over my face, making me flushed with redness across my face. I know his real father, the man whom he calls monster was broken and shattered but still how could he do this kind of act to a innocent child. He didn't knew crackyhead was his real child still he was a child, how could he do this yo him. There is nothing that can make this a mistake. This was a choice and that monster choose it. He choose to destroy his own child's future and past. Was he really that sick and broken to understand that what he was doing to a child. How could he even slap him on his face.

"Routine?" I question.

"Yes it was routine for him to punish me daily. I was his favourite toy to play with. He played with me on regular basis. I was alone, helpless and no one helped me. My mother's husband was busy with his business work, for his work was more important than me. He used to not show up for weeks. I didn't tried to know about him, not after mom died. He had completely abandoned me after my mother died. He also blamed me for what happened to mom.
Everyday my father, my real father, that monster used to come to my home whenever i was alone. I still remember how he used to punish me, how he managed to keep my mouth for so long. How he had tortured me like i was nothing but a piece of dirt. I fucking remember each and every second of that moment. It was routine for him to take his anger on me. Sometimes he beats me like i was nothing. One day he locked me in a store room and left me. I was there for freaking two days, shouting, crying like a mad person. I was hungry, my stomach was empty and that was the moment i realised that how it felt to be Hungry. I started to relate with those child on the streets. It was the beginning of my donation addiction"