Posted:
Hey everyone! So just a few things before the story: This isn't like my other two mini shots (Please read them as well!). This is kinda dark.I don't know how well I've succeeded in putting the point across, but I do hope this short piece at least gives a remote feeling of what I felt when I first started writing this.
DO NOT COPY THIS POST AS THIS IS EXCLUSIVE TO INDIA FORUMS
And... that's it! 😳
Suraj. The Sun. The bright star that's responsible for life on this planet. It's ironical, isn't it? While my name signifies some thing so bright and lively, all that I've experienced in this world is darkness. My 'life', if that is what it's supposed to be called, is devoid of spirit or soul, enshrouded in darkness.
HATRED. The emotion that rules my Life. I grew up hating my own self, for not being able to live up to the expectations of my father, for being such a weakling and displaying emotions of sadness outright, for not wanting to handle my emotions of sadness, despite being warned to. I hated that I had to crave for Love, that I wanted to be like all those people in the small huts, who, despite being devoid of material wealth, seemed so happy.
I hated that I lived my Life trying to please someone who discarded me like a piece of trash, without second thought, upon finding a more suitable 'heir'. I hated the Monster I had become, and it was all to please him.
I hated that our bond was so weak, that it took him just mere minutes for him to degrade me from son, to servant. I hated that my 'house', for all its pomp and show, could never become a 'home'.
ANGER. That all my efforts to please my father over the years were burnt to ashes by a girl who had returned after 10 years. That she would get back up no matter how many times I tried to keep her grounded. That my own father would replace his son in the flick of a finger.
Raw, animalistic emotion takes over me when I realize he might have never thought of me as his Son. I was just a mere tool for him. Use, and discard. It hurts.
PAIN, that I swallow, as I'm a puppet who isn't supposed to show emotion. It has been drilled into my soul, what's left of it, that I must never cry. In agony, in sadness, in pain, in anger. Never.
Do you know what it means to be FRIGHTENED? It's like having your worst nightmare being played, on repeat, non stop, in reality. My limbs go numb, and I don't have the courage to see whether my heart is still pumping. Frightened all the time, having to be on your guard always, in your own house, this is how I've grown up. Was life this cold to everyone?
When I look back, all I've ever done all these years is search for a certain warmth, the kind that candles or shawls wouldn't give. Am I making sense, woman? Does such a warmth exist? I wouldn't know.
PITY and NEED. The vicious circle of my life. Numerous times I have pitied myself, for wanting something even though I had everything that money could buy. How could I explain that what I wanted was not something bought with money? Something so priceless, only your family was capable of giving it to you? Would someone understand me?
Again, am I making sense? I've just been chasing after this emotion, not knowing what to call it, and have forced and confined myself now to think that I might never be able to reach for it.
It might disgust you, but I was happy that my mother needed me. Finally I had another person by my side, and not just four endlessly high walls. She needed me to make her feel secure, to make her feel protected against her husband. I have by now long forgotten I ever had someone I addressed as 'father'. This 'need' of hers was the closest I had got to experiencing that 'warmth' I mentioned before. I wanted to be selfish and never let go of it.
But out of all of these emotions, the one that left me half dead, almost en route to Hell, was... BETRAYAL.
It tasted like copper to my tongue, the fact that my father wanted to kill me.
It left me numb.
It ripped me apart, shredded my soul to pieces.
It was like thousand bullets passing through my flesh.
I was frightened.
All I saw was red. I was shivering in anger.
And the worst part of betrayal is the after taste, that One can never forget.
So tell me now, woman, before I get my hopes up, why do you come to save me? Do you pity me? I have already told you all the emotions I've experienced in my life.
Or is what you do an act of what people call 'kindness'? That is foreign to me.
Is it something else? Then I wouldn't know. But please Chakor, whatever it may be, let it not be betrayal.
Anything, except betrayal. For I don't think I can pick myself up again. I wouldn't be able to go in search of my shattered soul again. I'm already half dead. A living corpse.
And betrayal might just be the final blow that leaves me completely dead.
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