Destroying Myself (Myself #3)

BC 1.1 - The Girl I Destroyed

*Two weeks after the Epilogue*

'She found the colors to paint him where the world had left him gray.'

[ R A H U L ' S P O V ]

"Rahul!" The happy calling filled the small house of ours. Annoyed, I closed my book, stoop down the bed and walked out of the room. The tiles under my feet were slippery, giving away the fact that she just sweeps it.

"Mama?" I called her back, strolling to the small kitchen of ours.

She bent down on the floor, a white packet in her hands. "See what I got you."

I shouldn't accept it. Throw it away on her face like dad had told me. He said I shouldn't accept any gifts from mom, tell all of her details to him. She wasn't a good woman. She wasn't a good mother.

But I couldn't stop myself from placing my small hands on the packet and opened it.

"Rasagulla?" I asked, shocked.

"You love them, don't you?" She ruffled my hair. "Eat it."

"I don't want it." Her face fell. Taking it from her hands, I threw it on the floor. Dad would like me better now. He would be proud of me. He would love me. "Don't bring things from me."

Don't cry.

Don't you cry, Rahul. She was a mean lady. You've your dad.

"Why?" She touched my face. "Do you want anything else?" She asked sweetly, a troubled smile remained on her face.

If she was bad, then why my heart couldn't grasp the fact? She never hit me, always loved me. Was dad wrong?

No, no, no. Don't go there. You were being stupid. Your dad would slap you again. Don't.

"Rasagulla, huh?" A voice from behind me remarked. Turning, I saw him standing at the door.

Mom clutched my shoulders, and I strived to shrug her hands off. He wouldn't like her hands on me.

"Rahul, go to your room." She whispered to me. Nodding, I started walking to my room but he caught my hand and pushed me into the kitchen forcefully. Mom caught me. "What are you doing?"

"The thing you should have done!" He screamed at her. "He wastes food as if we're some rich people. Or you are." He mocked, while I stared at the spilled food. Stupid, stupid, Rahul. "You're a rich man whore, aren't you? That's how you get the money by opening your legs."

"Rahul is here," She hissed. "Handle your tongue."

"He should know what a whore his mother is." Why was he repeating that word again and again? He caught my hand and struck me hard against my cheek. "You don't spoil food. You eat it." He gripped my arm and I stifled the urge to scream. He wouldn't like it. He would hit me harder. "He doesn't need to go to school if that's what they teach now."

"No!" I exclaimed. "I love school." I stared at mom, who smiled at me. "Please, I love school. Please, mama."

"Look at him," He spat, clutching my hand tighter. "You've made him a girl with all these please and crying."

"Leave him." She took me from his hands. "He's just a kid."

"He's my son, and whores don't tell me how to treat my son. You did your job and now get out of the kitchen. He needs some lesson for wasting food."

"No!" She shouted, suddenly caging me in her arms. "Leave him alone."

But it only fueled his anger as he took her by the arm, throwing her across the room.