i wrapped my tattered shawl closer to me as i carried the heavy egg basket up the dirty road, i could see the familiar broken grey building a few feet ahead of me, i skipped up the broken steps and was about to go in when i heard muffled screams and shouts coming from the other side of the old rusty door, i quickly made my way to the small ventilator window at the back of our shabby one room apartment and peeked in to see my mother and father cursing at eachother. i was used to this treatment of my father towards us.
my name is zarmeen and i'm just like most of you but i carry a different story, being born as a girl i already had faced gender prejudices like many other in this area, i was eighteen, a age i see the rich children going to college but born in a poor household i wasn't even fortunate enough to go to school. i immediately rushed in the house to help my mother who was being beaten up by my father.
"stop it, just stop it" i screamed and covered my mother in a protective stance.
"you don't come in between" my father shouted.
"zara binti run, go away" my said to me in a tired voice.
"why ma?"
"because....you have been sold" my nightmare came splashing on me like ice cold water, a fate many of us suffered including my mother, my elder sisters had too and some of my friends, i knew this was bound to happen one day but this was all of a sudden.
YOU ARE READING
Zarmeen-the girl with scars
Spiritual"my life is full of wounds and scars, i have been bruised, beaten and.....used, i'm not pure, you know my story, why are you still sticking around is what i don't understand, please stop hurting my already pained soul!" i scream frustrated at him. "...
