Her Silence Screamed A Thousand Words

Episode 35

Dua's POV

I can't believe he's back. I can't forget those baby blue ever. The mask did nothing to hide his sinister plans. He injected the drug in my system. What Raza thinks is a Hickey is actually the bruise left after he forcefully injected the needle in. My dress was crumbled because before losing consciousness I felt him dragging me to the bathroom.

"What is he going to do?" I asked my self.

Another relationship going down. "When was it up?" My conscience asked.

When Raza slapped me and accused me of something I never did. I honestly felt nothing just disappointment and that too for my self. In fact the way history was repeating itself made me grin. My life had become a joke. It has been since the past 9 years. At this point I have given up expecting things from mere humans. My only source of hope is Allah because maybe with him I know he would not leave me stranded in the middle of nowhere.

His slap only felt like a bee sting compared to what I've been through this was nothing. This was like just a scolding for me. Abuse? I don't even consider this abuse. I used to when it was the begining but then a slap was something I received every single day making me habitual.

I'm just disappointed with my self that I can't do anything. All those name calling and accusations are my best friends. They always find a way back to me no matter how much I try to hide.

I went upstairs in my room and decided to change my cloths. Obviously who's even going to appreciate that I might just look good.

"Huh? Look good yeah right. A piece of trash like me can never look good." I thought.

I walked inside the room feeling numb. I could feel my old self coming out. The numbness is scaring the living day lights out of me. The way I'm not reacting is haunting me. Even back then I used to at least cry but now I can't cry more than two tears and that too with a straight face.

I took my cloths from the closet and went inside the bathroom to change. I took off all my jewellery and unpinned my dupatta as well as my hair. Letting my caramel brown hair down I brushed through it then taking off all my cloths I once again examined my body. Counting my scars is something I've grown habitual of. Fourty two... Fourty two scars the longest one being the one starting from behind my ear to my hip bone. All the way across my back. The most deadliest one on my left breast in the shape of a crescent moon. The rest are just mere cutouts.

I showered and changed into my silk pajamas. After a day of old memories I'm treating my self with some extra efforts in skincare and luxury. That's my motivation. After every difficult day if I maintain my calm or basically numbness I treat myself on cheat days when I cry my eyes out I still like to make my own self happy. Honestly I don't know anymore? Is what I think is happiness really happiness? Is this what it is? But then why do I feel emptiness inside. My brain tells me that I'm happy but the why does my heart causes goosebumps to form on my body. Whatever this is. I now consider it happiness. I don't care if I'm numb, emotionless or just scared to face the real me.

One thing I learned from my past experiences is that it's our own choice to live happily. I've learnt ways to make my own self happy or I think so. Like baking a cake. Writing a happy book or scene. Eating junk not most of the time just some days. Wearing fancy night suits to bed. Or giving my self a makover.

No one can love us if we don't love ourselves. I do hate my body on days but then it's who I am and if I don't accept my own self no one will. So if you ever want to be happy don't look for someone to make you happy be your own happiness.

Back to the topic. I moisturized my skin. Brushed a hair once again and went down stairs to eat something. As always I'm hungry. The depressed situation double my craving but I've learnt to control even when I was pregnant I used to choke my cravings down.