I would sleep like a baby.
Everyday… till that day.
The day when he touched me where he shouldn’t have. The day which shattered my faith in humanity. The day I started judging people by the way they look at me.
Thanks to the military background, the girls in our family are taught to fight back when the need arises. And, I did. Pushed him hard and fled the scene.
But it just didn’t end there. Right from that moment, I was gone.
I would lock myself up and not leave the room forget the house. I stopped smiling. Wouldn’t even talk to Momma. I wouldn’t eat for days. Even gave up on my books. I couldn’t sleep at night. Wouldn’t sleep for days altogether. Nights I tried to get some sleep would result in me waking up drenched in sweat and crying. Would cry in the bathroom while continuously washing my face to make my eyes burn less. The only sleep I would get was when I would pass out after all the energy got exhausted.
Anyone who came in closer would be judged. The boys were always looked as someone ‘who is around for my body.’ The girls weren’t spared either. They stuck around because of the pretty face. Because evidently the heart wasn’t pretty anymore. It got scars. And I lost myself.
The happy-go-lucky, bold and always confident girl was gone in thin air and was replaced with a reserved, insecure, scared girl.
It was like my grave was dug and I was ready to give up. So depressed by all that happened and all that I put myself through.
All I wanted was to an end to all of it. Because every bone in my body was doomed. Every nerve in my brain was ready to burst. Everything was too much for me. And I could no longer take it. Imagine, not minutes, not hours, not days, but 11 months. Every second of those 11 months I have suffered. And it was a very long time than just 11 months.
But I guess it wasn’t the end of it all. -the girl who didn’t give up.

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