Struggling with the language of French,the protagonist's mother decides to hire a French tutor for her only daughter.
What happens when, 𝐴𝐴𝑌𝐴𝑇, an ordinary girl is mentally and sexually harassed by her male tutor? Is it her imagination? Or is...
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The nights are long and the days are prolonged. It's difficult to stay strong. In a situation where you are considered wrong. I just wished a calamity to strike on me or I die from food poisoning. Or maybe I can just cut my wrist. Nothing was in my control at the moment. Everything has been shattered into so many pieces that I doubted they could ever be rectified again. My existence was nullified. My future has been destroyed. Well, the present as well. My past has inflicted wounds that could never be healed.
I recalled the sayings and teachings of my grandmother. She always taught me how, when and why to distinguish between right and wrong. What petrifies me is how did I choose the wrong path? I thought in disbelief.
"God does not burden a soul beyond that it can bear." She used to recite this verse from the Holy Quran, every time I wept in pain. Be it an injury or an injection. She always soothes me with her words. I wish if I could hug her for once and let my pain out to her.
"I miss you. I miss you so much. I want you to be here." I screamed in tears, alone, desolated, prisoned in my room. Abandoned by my mother, disowned by the morales of social order.
I continued to sob, hesitantly murmuring, calling upon my grandmother.
The memories of the afternoon were hurting me like a dagger being etched into my heart. Literally shattering it into several pieces of fear and pain. Pain that is so vulnerable to be cured. Fear that is so numb to be overcome.
The heavy burden of sorrow degrades it all. Nothing in this world, I repeat, nothing in this world is more painful than getting beaten by your own mother for being tortured, molested, and harassed by the only person whom she appointed as your tutor.
It hurts a lot when you are used by the man you love. It stagnates your heart when you are molested by your private tutor. But the pain is worse when you receive zero support from your mother.
I wondered what is she high on? Like it's 2021. A world where religion places a position above culture? Prove me if I am wrong. Huh? Those social mores are nothing but an outcome of irrational and non-critical thinking. A lunatic will make much more sensible arguments than my mother.
Every inch of my body ached with the pain I encountered. The one by my mother.
Grounded to the floor I bend my head while my hands were wrapped around my legs. There was no full stop to my sobs. They flowed convulsively with consistency. Eyes that were filled with regrets and remorse of the kind and tears that became a part of my agitated life. This was it. Reality of my life. Legitimacy of my undeniable pain.
"Aisle?" A knock was heard on the door. I looked up and began to wipe those woeful pearls of the ocean, which demanded to never halt from their journey. I didn't want them to ebb but they won't regress.
Yuhannis silently turned the knob. He shouldn't be here. I thought to myself.
No one was allowed to enter my room. My mother has locked me inside and restricted my cousin and father to enter it. Then how did he get the keys?
