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The escape (part 2)
#WritcoStoryChallenge
With a roll of my eye, I ignored his comment and took out my phone trying my best to stop the shaking of my hands, and I am glad I succeeded. This left him standing there awkwardly before turning towards another one of my cousins in the group and talking with him.
He is about 10 years older than me. Someone who could have been my strongest pillar of support, given my relationship with his late father-my dad's eldest brother- who was always there when my dad used to be abroad trying to make our lives a bit easier. It is only because of the love and respect I have for his dad that I still don't bring out his true colours. Or so I want to believe. But somewhere deep down I know that it is mainly because I am scared. Scared to see my parents breakdown because they trust this man to the point where my dad is the one organising his wedding in the place of his late father. They treat him like their own and I don't want them to lose their trust. I don't want them to go through some trauma at their old age, which could potentially give them a heart attack. Though they are both very healthy and happy, which parents in the world could take the news of their precious daughter being molested by their own nephew? Also, a small part of me is scared that no one will believe me. Afterall, I don't have any proof and he could easily twist things around onto me. I am scared that I will be the reason to ruin this otherwise happy family. I am scared to fight.
This has been going on from when I was 5,atleast that is as far as I can remember. My mother being a teacher used to invite him over to give him some help in Mathematics. But she didn't know that when she used to give him questions to solve and leave me by him to finish some works at home and ask for him to look after me, he did it so well. He used to tell me it is a game and that nobody should know about it. That it was our little secret. I don't have any clear recollection of those earlier years. But over the years, I do recollect him trying to kiss me every chance he gets, which was easier because he just had to use the excuse of taking the kid to play. At first, I used to think this was fun like hide-and-seek. But it all ended that one dreaded day when he showed me something that still disgusts me. I was just 9 years old at that time. He took me to the side of my own house, with my parents in the drawing room chatting away with his mom, and showed me something in his pants. That was the first time he had done that and I was shocked and confused. But the feeling I remember so clearly till now is of nausea and disgust. Especially when he asked me to kiss it and told me how we'd have babies if it would go inside my body. Though I was still a 9 year old, warning bells started ringing in my head and I ran from there. The next few days was filled with me avoiding being alone with him. And then finally a week or two later, he cornered me in the kitchen when I had gone to get some water. With him pressing up against me, I finally found my voice and said "No", even surprising myself that my voice didn't tremble. He tried to coax me but I ended his plea with a single sentence: "No, or I am telling mom". As I watched him walking away in fear, I felt a feeling I still don't know how to describe. It was calm, but I feared it was the warning before a storm. But that storm thankfully never came. And so did the apology I needed from him to start anew.
I still can't forget how after a month of my confrontation, he asked me if I had told anyone. I watched his face relax when I told him I didn't and I was waiting for the words of sorry that never came. I was always on high alert even in a full room if he was present. I could feel my hands shaking. Over the years I learned to naturally ignore his presence, though I was very well aware of the monster in the room. As I grew a little older and began to understand the severity of what he had done and the possibility of what could have happened if I hadn't said a firm "No" at that time, I hated him even more. There were times when the hate for him was so profound that I just wanted to kill him and let myself free. There were also times when I hated myself for letting him take advantage of me. Even though I was a child, if I had even foolishly mentioned this 'game' to my parents, maybe he would have been punished. The hate for myself also resurfaced when he would occasionally tell me vulgar comments about my body as a teenager, indicating that it was my body and hence my fault that he felt to do those things to me. As a troubled teenager, who was already being taunted by everyone for being overweight, I became more ashamed in my own skin. I hated the body I was living in. I could not see that if anyone was to be blamed, it was that perverted pedophile.
The more I grew, the more I began avoiding him. Also, a part of me wanted to forgive him thinking he was a horny teenager at that time. He had also let me be once he got into practicing medicine. I wanted to believe that he had changed and I should not hold grudges against a changed man. But I truly wanted an apology to move on and I lacked the courage to confront him for it. I didn't want to disturb this status quo where he minded his own business and I minded mine.
Over the years, I built up the image of a strong young woman who should not be messed with. Being in a residential university was a temporary escape for me. I did not have to fear his visits when being far away from home. Getting new friends and finding my own personality grow, I was quite happy with the way my life was coursing ahead. That is until that one day during the winter break when he came to our house to discuss an alliance that his mother had found for him. He wanted my dad to make the decisions and help him with the marriage preparations as he "respected" him and saw him as his "godfather". I openly sneered at those words that day, which he had seen but very conveniently chose to ignore. As the wedding was fixed, he dropped another bomb on me saying that he wanted me to take the position of his sister in the wedding, which was the third most important person in the rituals in our family after the bride and groom themselves. His reasons were that he did not have a sister of his own and also that he wanted to show his gratitude to my parents for helping with the wedding. I could not help but feel that he did it to keep my mouth shut. The more you are in the public eye, the more you should think about your words and actions. What respect, what gratitude!? It was more like keeping your enemies closer. But I had no other choice than to go with his proposal or else I had to explain myself. Sometimes I just wish I had the privilege to say "No" without having to explain myself.
During the times he came to discuss the wedding preparations with my dad, he tried making small talks with me. He even introduced his soon-to-be wife to me and insisted we bond well together. Though I am not good at meeting new people and our first meeting was more or less awkward, we exchanged numbers and hit it off quite well after that. I found her to be a very simple and innocent girl with the same career interests as me. That gave us more common topics to talk about. As our friendship grew, I found myself pitying the poor girl. At times I even thought about revealing everything to her and leave it upon her to make the final decision. But the thought that my cousin could have changed and that I should not ruin his wedding plans made me swallow my words. But nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen a month prior to the wedding.
With a roll of my eye, I ignored his comment and took out my phone trying my best to stop the shaking of my hands, and I am glad I succeeded. This left him standing there awkwardly before turning towards another one of my cousins in the group and talking with him.
He is about 10 years older than me. Someone who could have been my strongest pillar of support, given my relationship with his late father-my dad's eldest brother- who was always there when my dad used to be abroad trying to make our lives a bit easier. It is only because of the love and respect I have for his dad that I still don't bring out his true colours. Or so I want to believe. But somewhere deep down I know that it is mainly because I am scared. Scared to see my parents breakdown because they trust this man to the point where my dad is the one organising his wedding in the place of his late father. They treat him like their own and I don't want them to lose their trust. I don't want them to go through some trauma at their old age, which could potentially give them a heart attack. Though they are both very healthy and happy, which parents in the world could take the news of their precious daughter being molested by their own nephew? Also, a small part of me is scared that no one will believe me. Afterall, I don't have any proof and he could easily twist things around onto me. I am scared that I will be the reason to ruin this otherwise happy family. I am scared to fight.
This has been going on from when I was 5,atleast that is as far as I can remember. My mother being a teacher used to invite him over to give him some help in Mathematics. But she didn't know that when she used to give him questions to solve and leave me by him to finish some works at home and ask for him to look after me, he did it so well. He used to tell me it is a game and that nobody should know about it. That it was our little secret. I don't have any clear recollection of those earlier years. But over the years, I do recollect him trying to kiss me every chance he gets, which was easier because he just had to use the excuse of taking the kid to play. At first, I used to think this was fun like hide-and-seek. But it all ended that one dreaded day when he showed me something that still disgusts me. I was just 9 years old at that time. He took me to the side of my own house, with my parents in the drawing room chatting away with his mom, and showed me something in his pants. That was the first time he had done that and I was shocked and confused. But the feeling I remember so clearly till now is of nausea and disgust. Especially when he asked me to kiss it and told me how we'd have babies if it would go inside my body. Though I was still a 9 year old, warning bells started ringing in my head and I ran from there. The next few days was filled with me avoiding being alone with him. And then finally a week or two later, he cornered me in the kitchen when I had gone to get some water. With him pressing up against me, I finally found my voice and said "No", even surprising myself that my voice didn't tremble. He tried to coax me but I ended his plea with a single sentence: "No, or I am telling mom". As I watched him walking away in fear, I felt a feeling I still don't know how to describe. It was calm, but I feared it was the warning before a storm. But that storm thankfully never came. And so did the apology I needed from him to start anew.
I still can't forget how after a month of my confrontation, he asked me if I had told anyone. I watched his face relax when I told him I didn't and I was waiting for the words of sorry that never came. I was always on high alert even in a full room if he was present. I could feel my hands shaking. Over the years I learned to naturally ignore his presence, though I was very well aware of the monster in the room. As I grew a little older and began to understand the severity of what he had done and the possibility of what could have happened if I hadn't said a firm "No" at that time, I hated him even more. There were times when the hate for him was so profound that I just wanted to kill him and let myself free. There were also times when I hated myself for letting him take advantage of me. Even though I was a child, if I had even foolishly mentioned this 'game' to my parents, maybe he would have been punished. The hate for myself also resurfaced when he would occasionally tell me vulgar comments about my body as a teenager, indicating that it was my body and hence my fault that he felt to do those things to me. As a troubled teenager, who was already being taunted by everyone for being overweight, I became more ashamed in my own skin. I hated the body I was living in. I could not see that if anyone was to be blamed, it was that perverted pedophile.
The more I grew, the more I began avoiding him. Also, a part of me wanted to forgive him thinking he was a horny teenager at that time. He had also let me be once he got into practicing medicine. I wanted to believe that he had changed and I should not hold grudges against a changed man. But I truly wanted an apology to move on and I lacked the courage to confront him for it. I didn't want to disturb this status quo where he minded his own business and I minded mine.
Over the years, I built up the image of a strong young woman who should not be messed with. Being in a residential university was a temporary escape for me. I did not have to fear his visits when being far away from home. Getting new friends and finding my own personality grow, I was quite happy with the way my life was coursing ahead. That is until that one day during the winter break when he came to our house to discuss an alliance that his mother had found for him. He wanted my dad to make the decisions and help him with the marriage preparations as he "respected" him and saw him as his "godfather". I openly sneered at those words that day, which he had seen but very conveniently chose to ignore. As the wedding was fixed, he dropped another bomb on me saying that he wanted me to take the position of his sister in the wedding, which was the third most important person in the rituals in our family after the bride and groom themselves. His reasons were that he did not have a sister of his own and also that he wanted to show his gratitude to my parents for helping with the wedding. I could not help but feel that he did it to keep my mouth shut. The more you are in the public eye, the more you should think about your words and actions. What respect, what gratitude!? It was more like keeping your enemies closer. But I had no other choice than to go with his proposal or else I had to explain myself. Sometimes I just wish I had the privilege to say "No" without having to explain myself.
During the times he came to discuss the wedding preparations with my dad, he tried making small talks with me. He even introduced his soon-to-be wife to me and insisted we bond well together. Though I am not good at meeting new people and our first meeting was more or less awkward, we exchanged numbers and hit it off quite well after that. I found her to be a very simple and innocent girl with the same career interests as me. That gave us more common topics to talk about. As our friendship grew, I found myself pitying the poor girl. At times I even thought about revealing everything to her and leave it upon her to make the final decision. But the thought that my cousin could have changed and that I should not ruin his wedding plans made me swallow my words. But nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen a month prior to the wedding.
