Sweven

I peeped through the window. The room was bright and soon I saw her lying on the bed. The door of the room opened and I saw her parents come in. She greeted them with a smile. Each time she smiled now, the smile became a fresh wound in my already wounded heart. Then, I looked at her hair which had once shone was now all ruffled. The bright, twinkling eyes which rained love over a soul had now big dark circles under them. But what hurt me the most was that the cheek I had stroked whenever she blushed, were now scarred for a lifetime. Born in a family, where feminism was strongly opposed, I grew up to become a coward. Because even when I had feelings for her before she had them for me, I couldn’t propose her. I was a coward because I couldn’t introduce her to my parents even when I had spent a fortnight with her family. I was a coward because I let my friends strip her naked and rape her even when I had a prior warning. I was a coward because I hid myself when I finally reached to rescue her from getting raped. I hid myself when she fought and her rapist pressed a red hot iron rod against her cheek. But not anymore. I would now go and tell her that she doesn’t deserve a coward like me. So, when I finally entered the room to end this relationship, she smiled and her smile killed the courage within me. But, then I looked at her hand and saw that it was already slit. I couldn’t stop my tears from flowing as I realised that all this while when I was thinking about her looking at her face she had slit her wrist.