Chapter 3: another drug
"You could stab her on the chest but she would still apologize for bleeding all over you"
By: Unknown
The rain outside was cruel but it felt like it was crying with me.
Every crack of thunder seemed to match the beating of my heart, the trembling of my body.
Abbu had left me in the kitchen after the last round of slaps, but it still felt like I was being slapped
I worked as fast as my aching body would allow.
My ribs were on fire, and my vision blurred from the pain.
Every movement was a struggle, and every breath felt like knives stabbing into my side.
But I had to finish preparing his food. If I didn't, I knew what would come next.
Farhan and Ridwan were nowhere to be found now, as usual.
They had seen enough to know better than to intervene.
They left me alone with the monster we called father, always watching from the shadows but never daring to lift a finger to stop him.
It was easier for them, I suppose, to pretend nothing was happening.
Abbu never lays a hand on them he treats them like his children because he says boys are the real price of the parents
I shuffled over to the stove, gripping the counter for balance, trying to keep the tears from falling. But they came anyway. Silent, uncontrollable, they streamed down my face as I stirred the pot, hoping Papa wouldn't notice if the food was late by a few more minutes.
But fate never worked in my favor.
Abbu's footsteps thundered down the hallway, and I froze.
The sound sent a cold chill down my spine.
I heard his heavy boots stop at the door. A second later, it swung open with a loud creak, and his shadow filled the kitchen like a dark omen.
I didn't dare look up.
"You're slow," he growled. His voice was low and dangerous, the kind that sent my entire body into a paralyzed state. I swallowed hard, my throat dry, trying to speak.
"I'm sorry, Abbu.… It's almost done." My voice cracked under the pressure of the fear curling inside my chest.
He said nothing, but I could feel him watching me, like a predator sizing up its prey. The room felt like it was shrinking, suffocating me with his presence. I kept stirring the pot, faster now, trying to ignore the sharp pain stabbing at my side. The food was nearly ready, just a few more minutes.
Just a few more seconds...
But abbu was never a patient man.
Without warning, he lunged at me, grabbing the back of my neck.
I gasped as he yanked me away from the stove and slammed me into the counter. My ribs screamed in agony, and I bit my lip to keep from crying out. He leaned in close, his hot breath on my ear.
"You think you can waste my time, huh?" His voice was a hiss, dripping with venom. "You think you're special?"
"I-I'm sorry," I whimpered, barely able to breathe as he pressed me harder against the counter.
"You're worthless," he spat, his grip tightening around my neck. "Just like your whore of a mother."
He threw me to the ground with a force that knocked the wind out of me. My body crumpled against the cold tiles, and for a moment, I couldn't move. The pain was unbearable, but I knew better than to stay down. Slowly, I tried to push myself up, but Abhu wasn't finished yet.
He kicked me in the side, right where my ribs were already bruised. I screamed this time, unable to hold it in. The pain was too much and I felt my ribs break. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think. My entire world was in pain.
"Shut up!" Papa barked, kicking me again. "You think anyone's going to help you? You think anyone cares about a little whore like you?"
I curled into a ball, trying to protect myself, but it didn't matter. He kept kicking me, over and over again, until I thought I would pass out from the pain. My vision blurred with tears, and I prayed for it to end.
But then, suddenly, he stopped.
I didn't dare move, didn't dare breathe. I could hear his heavy breathing above me, feel his eyes on me. Slowly, I looked up, and what I saw next sent a new wave of fear through me.
His eyes… they weren't just angry. They were hungry.
"Get up," he said, his voice low and threatening.
I couldn't. My body wouldn't let me. But he didn't care. He grabbed me by the hair and yanked me to my feet, dragging me toward the table. I stumbled, my legs barely able to hold me up, and I tried to pull away, but his grip was iron.
"Papa, please…" I begged, panic rising in my chest as I realized what he was about to do. "Please, don't…"
He didn't respond. He shoved me onto the table, face down, and I heard the sound of his belt being unbuckled. My heart stopped.
"No! Abbu, please!" I screamed, thrashing under him, trying to get away. But he was too strong. He pinned me down with one hand, and I felt his other hand tugging at my skirt.
I thought I was going to die. I thought this was the end.
But then, a loud knock echoed through the house.
Papa froze. Another knock, this time louder, more insistent.
For a second, everything was still. Then, he cursed under his breath and let go of me. I fell to the ground, gasping for air, tears streaming down my face as I curled into myself, shaking.
The knocking continued.
Papa stormed out of the kitchen, slamming the door behind him. I could hear him cursing as he stomped toward the front door, his heavy boots echoing in the hallway. I didn't move. I couldn't. My entire body was trembling, and my mind was reeling from what had just happened.
I didn't know how long I lay there, waiting for him to come back, waiting for the next blow. But he never returned.
Instead, I heard voices from the front door. Someone was talking to Papa. The words were muffled, but I could hear the tension in his voice. Whoever it was, they were keeping him distracted.
I took the opportunity. With every ounce of strength I had left, I dragged myself to my feet and stumbled toward the stairs to get to my room and locked the door .
I fell to the ground after locking the door. My body was too weak to carry me to my bed.
So I laid there, my body wracked with pain and fear, l knew that I would never be free from the horror that had become a sad reality.