𝘼𝙡𝙥𝙝𝙖 𝙍𝙤𝙢𝙖𝙣𝙪𝙨

Chapter 14

"Sometimes, i think the sun and moon as lovers who rarely meet,

Always chase, and almost always miss one another,

But once in a while,

They do catch up,

And they kiss,

And world stares in awe of their eclipse."

I am a person.

Or i was a person.

Or at least i like to think i had once been a person; a person with scars and bruises with all over it's body; red trickily blood flowing down their sides; picture of misery reflected both inside and outside.

My beauty was never that skin i guess— that is, if even it is called beauty. They say time can heal things. But i never healed, or become better, as a matter of fact.

He didn't mar my face because he said it was pretty and he liked pretty things. He took the only think i cherished. He took my body, over and over again. And he took pleasure in it. He didn't had any remorse over what he did, i saw it in his eyes, the monster I created because of blinding his eye.

I clawed my body with my nails, scratching, willing to do anything to get the feeling of his touch of my body but nothing worked. He broke me. I sobbed uncontrollably, as thinking about the misery which had taken over my fate and is testing me over and over again. I was exhausted of this life. Maybe, I should die the world would be a better place if a pest like me didn't exist in it.

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The hospital room is as devoid of beauty as I am of hope. Its walls are simply cream, not peeling or dirty, just cream. I wanted them to be full of colours, rainbow ones like those flowers which bloomed in spring.

I lay there quietly, keeping my eyes closed, matching my breaths to the beeping of the machines that surrounded the bed, the only indications of my heartbeat, my existence. My legs were numb.

I knew the door was locked, why would they let they open it otherwise. This was making me nauseous, as I always had a bad case of being claustrophobic.

Suddenly, the door opened and a lady doctor entered, she had the posture of a soldier. Every action she took was precise and purposeful. She smiled in the cold and distant way professionals do.

I can never relax around such expressions. I need a genuine face, preferably a smile, but if not I'd really rather they didn't fake it. Her eyes were devoid of any make-up and her hair was in a tight bun, not a strand out of place. Through the examination she gave commands rather than requests. The nurse had hovered two feet behind, her relaxed expression of earlier replaced with a grim slash for a mouth and knitted brows.

When the prodding was over I dropped my eyes to the covers in anticipation of her speaking to me, but when I raised them again the room was quite empty; they weren't even in the corridor. My hands stretched over the cold linen like an infant in search of a comforting toy and closed on the thick itchy fabric. I was alone before, but then I felt ever more so. The walls seemed far away and I felt trapped- tethered by tubes.

The door opened again when he entered and pinned me with his unique eyes, taking long strides across the room towards the bed, towards me.

My breath hitched in my throat in fear of him hurting me again, i knew i had to be strong but i just couldn't. He leaned down till his breath was hitting my ear, warming my face, "The moment you get out of this room, more surprises will await you" he said with malice and contentment clear in his voice.

With that, his eyes glossed over indicating that he was mind-linking someone and with that a maid entered with a tray of food as it as a delicious smell came out of it, my stomach found the perfect moment to grumble.

He suddenly laughed, and it was so beautiful as his whole face lightened up. I wish life was much easier and i wouldn't have to go through this much. I looked over to him and our eyes locked as my face warmed, feeling it go all over red as i averted my eyes towards the tray of food the maid kept on my lap and scurried out of the room when he glared at her.

He left the room, not after saying to finish the whole tray of food.

I zoned out and laid back after eating and started thinking who even am I?

Often in life I have been called strong. Though I know they mean it as a complement my heart sinks and there is a wave of sadness in my soul when I hear it. For what I show is a forced resiliency, a way I've had to be my entire life just to survive. I've always wanted to find a good life, to be truly happy and for that I knew I must carry on, to keep walking through every pain and hurt. What I want is to be soft, and for softness to be alright. I want to be helpful and do what it is my soul and heart need to be healed. I believe in service, not servitude.

I believe giving of the self, of giving always with love, yet I've learnt that I have limits. To call a person strong or brave sounds so nice, but if in reality they are like a horse being run to death and praised for its speed and beauty, there is a cruelty to it. From my beginnings I knew that crying summoned another person to inflict pain, so why cry? "If you cry I'll give you something to cry about." So please don't look at my dry face and tell me I'm strong, because it hurts.

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