Untitled.

Chapter 2

To say that I was sore would be an understatement. I was literally dying from the pain. I felt pathetic as yet again the tears came streaming down my face. I didn't understand why my own mother had to be like this. Weren't mothers supposed to love their daughters unconditionally? Then why do I have to go through this every single day; was it too much to ask for one day where my mom could be a little nice to me? I guess it was since it never happened. If there was a God I would like to ask him a simple why. A simple 'why' for all the things that happened to me.

Sighing I got up from my place on the floor and got in the shower. Cleaning myself up proved to be more difficult than I thought it would be. The tears came again as I scrubbed myself only to finally give up and just stand under the water . I got into my pajamas. Going towards the wall cupboard I opened it and got down on my knees. Parting the only clothes I had I cautiously opened the plank behind and took out the shoebox from the hidden compartment within. I sat down on the floor Indian style with my back towards the cupboard. I opened the shoebox and took the first thing. A picture of me and my father when I was a kid. This was the only picture I had of him. The picture was taken in our own backyard. It was day of my birthday and he had come home early from his shift. The whole place was lit in fairy lights and lanterns. He had made me a swing from the tree. I was on the swing and soaring high up in the air with a vibrant smile in my face while my dad stood behind my back laughing.

I could not remember anything about my dad apart from this particular memory. It seemed as someone had erased my mind leaving only a little piece to get lodged in my mind burning brightly.

The other things in it were mainly some of my achievements and some pictures of Jessie and me. Be it just a shoebox but it was my most valuable position. This was a part of me only for myself. My safe haven. Putting the things back into the shoebox I picked myself off the floor and trudged to the bathroom to get ready for my dance class.

I quietly opened my door and went downstairs without making a noise. When the floor creaked beneath me, I stood still holding my breath to see if there was a movement. Finding the coast clear I went out closing the door as I left.

The walk to the dance studio took was 10 minutes long. I plugged in my earphones and selected an instrumental playlist as I began my walk.

Dance was among one my hobbies that I loved to bits. Like painting dance was another thing where I could express myself without having to worry about being judged. I realized very quickly that venting to someone could indeed be very lethal. It takes a lot of time to trust someone and tell your deepest secrets. Secrets that didn't necessarily define who you are but those which do affect the change in your perspective. It's like chemistry. A simple example like water. Two different elements having very different properties but combine them in ratios and you get something which doesn't match to either of those previous elements had. That's how secrets and the person they belonged to were. And once you're done telling them you wait anxiously for their reply. Searching their eyes for some closure. Your hands seem clammy and then when they speak words of comfort you believe them blindly because you're relieved that now you're no longer alone. But come next day, the next week , the next month you realize the small changes coming between the both you. Less number of calls , excuses fights about things which you've always agreed on. And when you ask why there's the answer. So simple yet so clear.

" I've changed."

And it's then that your biggest fear come true and you realize that you had better kept your mouth shut.

I entered the dance studio and flung my tote bag on the side. I took off my jacket and started my warm-ups. I then went down to my least favorite of all a.k.a stretching. And let me tell you one fine thing. It ain't "sugar and spice and everything nice" when you need to stretch with an already beaten down body. Hell it would even make Captain America cry. Well if you can imagine him stretching wearing tights .