There was this girl who would flinch. Who would flinch every time her father raised his hand, to reach out for a dish on the dinner table, or to scratch his nose, or to swat a fly.
She startled at any sudden movement of him at any given circumstances.
But she smiled.. She hid it all to the extent that people envied up on her life. On the life, they saw outside.
Smart, witty, over achiever.
They didn't see the one who resorted to books and words in dark corners. They didn't see the one who held grief and swore never to shed tears. They didn't see the loner who wished to be dead than alive.
She was good.
She was great at it.
Hiding in plain site.
But, it leaked through. It was too evident, and yet no one heard her silence as a cry for help.
She was cherished for what she could do. Celebrated and loved.
Loved? She is not sure.
Could you love a possession?
Could you love a trophy?
She grew up. Disconnected and yet determined to help ones who are like her.
You see, she can see them. She can hear the silence. She can feel their pain. So she grew up determined to be a voice.
3 decades later, she still flinches if she sees her father raise his hand. Apathy is what she feels. But her body has not forgotten the pain, the bruises, the humiliation, and the betrayal of the very ones who were supposed to protect her.
She has a long way to go to heal.
If she could heal.
But, she turned what had happened to her into power. A power that she harnessed to help others.
Her journey has begun.
But let us pray, no child, no woman, no man, go through this. Let's swore never to become the father, the mother, the partner who takes away someone's dignity and desire to live.