"Congrats. You survived the war now deal with the trauma."
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Kunti tells us of her secret. Karna is her child. My husbands all fall in different feelings of shock. Yudhisthra even curses all women to never be able to hold a secret ever again. I think they expect to say something or be shocked. But I feel nothing. Absolutely nothing.
How can I? My veins are no longer filled with blood, but with emptiness that feels a heavy as lead and cold as death. I feel nothing. They say if Kunti said this truth earlier that war could have been prevented that Karna would have stopped this war, he would have driven sense into Duryodhan and this mass destruction would have been prevented. That he would have lead this war like the great warrior he was.
They can say whatever they want for all I care.
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My husbands burn all the corpses later that day, not before the others protest. I don't participate in anything. I can't even say anything. My mouth feels like it's been filled with sand.
My eyes have dried. My heart is still crying. My soul is still aching.
Nothing will ever be the same again.
Whoever said some things never change is a liar. A horrible liar with bleeding eyes.
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When we go to the palace that day Dirtharasthra calls Bheem forward to hug him. Krishna places an iron statue exactly like Bheema in front of him. He hugs it so hard it breaks and falls apart. A tear falls down Bheema's cheek. I wipe it away.
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That day I step in the room they've given me and I break.
It's red. It's mocking. It's killing me.
I fall onto the floor, screaming. My hand immediately draw scars into my skin. Blood seeps out. It's red. I scream and I scream. I don't know if anyone even hears. Blood-curdling screams escape me.
Someone lifts me from the floor and holds me. I can't see who it is. I am still crying in pain.
They take me another room. It's white. My sobs stop after a little while.
Nakul carried me here. Sahadev walks over to me to soothe my wounds. I stop him.
Bheem walks in worry etched over his face. I'm sitting on the bed. He falls to his knees and holds my cheek. He's crying. I try to wipe his tears but in the process I start crying all over again so I just press my forehead to his and cry.
Arjun presses a hand to my shoulder. I stop myself from shaking it off.
Yudhisthra stands with that gaze that used to infuriate me. But it does nothing to me now. Absolutely nothing.
I continue to cry.
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Draupadi
Historical Fiction--------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------- Dharma was the cloth I held closest. I was draped in dharma. No one could ever take that from me. No amount of pu...
