3 - Abuse - زیادتی

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"No woman has to be a victim of physical abuse. Women have to feel like they are not alone." - Salma Hayek 


I saw his eyes sharpen like daggers as he read the score on the front. It wasn't hard to miss in bright red ink, covering half the page. I wished I'd just burnt the damned thing when I had the chance. I saw his veins popping through his skin as his muscles tensed up with rage and animosity. I didn't move, nor did Ammi Jee. The eerie silence in the room made us both too scared to.

"Is this your exam?" He whispered, slowly looking up at me with a seething stare. This was the calm before the storm. I was shaking so hard, I couldn't reply. 

He inhaled deeply. "I said...is this your exam?!" He spat, making me almost burst into tears. I jumped back, frightened by the sudden change in mood. I was so scared that I had developed a stutter. "Y, ye, yes..." I squeaked, shaking like a leaf and talking like a mouse. 

Before I had time to escape his grasp, he came running at me, my exam in one hand. He chucked my exam paper onto the hard stone floor and held my long, thick hair. It had come loose from it's ponytail under my fallen dupatta, and he pulled it hard, revealing a set of yellow, gritted teeth. He shook my head to and fro like I was a lifeless rag doll, yelling cruel and hurtful words at me. I screamed and cried but struggling just added to the extreme pain that I was already feeling.

"Why are you so useless? Well? We should've just had a boy! A boy! Not a useless girl! I said to your mum, I said disown her! But no! Allah had to punish me with a bloody girl; a stupid, stupid girl!" 

He pulled me by my hair so that I was facing my mother, also shaking to no end. She had moved from the sink and was now standing a few feet away from us. I cried out in pain, my shoulders weakening, as tears ran down my wet cheeks. "Bilal! Let go of her!" Ammi Jee cried, edging forward and trying to help me out of my father's grasp. It was no use. I was immediately yanked back, being pulled with so much force that I thought I had suffered whiplash. 

"No! You see her? You see? This is the useless child that you've raised! This bloody idiot!"  

I continued to cry, sobbing so loudly that I began to turn red. I was drooling too, my saliva merging with my tears in a gross, wet mess. In that moment, I didn't care. My father suddenly pushed me to the floor, by my neck, letting me crash down on the hard, stone floor. I used my hands to push me up but I was too weak to hold myself up and soon fell back down. I looked up through blurred vision and saw my father shaking his head at me, clearly disgusted by the very sight of me. 

Ammi Jee ran to aid me, cradling my head in her lap. I just dropped into her lap, a limp pile of shame and pain. "It's okay, meri Jaan. It's okay." She whispered, stroking my hair out of my face as I sobbed.

"Get the spoon." I heard my father shout. I began to tremble again, I couldn't stop. My heart was beating so hard that I found it hard to breath. "No, Bilal! Please! You've done enough." My mother pleaded, clasping her hands together in a begging motion as she sat on the floor, me lying in her lap.

"Yasmeen! I'm not asking you, I'm telling you! Get the spoon or I'll break your neck! Do you hear me? I'll break it!" 

My mother shook her head, crying hopelessly. "Please..." She whimpered.
 "I've had enough with my pathetic family! Enough!" My father yelled, at the very top of his lungs. He turned a dark red colour, his eyes were seething and fiery. Ammi Jee was suddenly yanked from underneath me, Abbu Jee holding her by one arm and pulling her forward. 

She didn't resist, she was too weak. She just let herself be pulled forward, badly bruised and battered. He pulled her face close to his, the distance between them slowly shrinking. Between angry, gritted teeth he said, "You're the one that gave this child to me... It's your fault, naah?" 
Ammi Jee nodded slowly, breathing heavily as her eyes watered.

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