Warrior - Chapter Two

 TRIGGER WARNING: topics/themes of rape is covered in this chapter. If these trigger you, please be advised and proceed with caution.

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Memories - no matter how hard you try to forget them, they always haunt you.

I've tried hard to forget many of my memories - memories that were basically living-nightmares. But they don't go away, despite how hard I've tried to strengthen myself.

"Jiji?"

Looking away from the window to the door, I saw Payal standing there.

"Hey... mom yelled at you much?"

She shook her head. "Don't worry about it. ...are you okay?"

I shrugged. "As fine as I'll ever be," I sighed.

Payal glanced down at her feet before stepping into my room. "Mom's upset, too."

"She always is."

"At herself."

"I know."

That usually was the case - first she'd lash out on me, then realize that her anger was only towards herself. Then she'd feel horrible about it and try to apologize for it, but I only wanted to just move on and not think about it.

"What are you drinking," Payal asked, nodding towards the drink in my hand.

"Appletini. You want?"

Payal nodded and I nodded towards the mason jar that still had some of the drink left. Shutting and locking the door behind her, Payal went to get the get the drink, then stood beside me. Alcohol technically wasn't allowed in the house - only brought in and meant for parties and such - therefore the lack of a cocktail shaker. But a rebel is a rebel, and you use what you can to get by. If Amma and Babuji found out that I drink, I'm sure I'd get some sort of lecture, though they'd stop themselves. As for Payal, she'd get the ultimate mouthful.

At least she's 21.

"You sure you're okay," Payal asked.

"Why wouldn't I be?"

"You're standing by the window, drinking like you're in a daytime Hollywood TV soap."

I let out a sigh. "I'm living the life aren't, I?"

Her lips curved at the joke and I lightly nudged her.

"Don't worry about me baby sis, I can take care of myself."

"I know," she nearly whispered. "But you also deserve to have someone to take care of you."

Her grip slightly tightened around the mason jar and I placed my hand on her shoulder. Payal looked up at me and I shook my head, her grip then returning to normal.

"Take it with you," I gestured at the jar. "Go to bed, and don't let Amma or Babuji see it."

"Jiji I'm 21, not 11," she frowned.

"If you were 11, we wouldn't even be having this conversation."

Baby sister only rolled her eyes and left, sneaking to her room. Setting down my drink, I locked my door and plopped back onto my bed, staring up at the chandelier.

As strong as I tried to appear to the world, inside, I knew that I wasn't - not entirely. To Payal, it only looked like I was gazing out the window. But the truth was, memories of that night had been playing through my mind - the very fucking memories I deeply desired to forget.

But I never will.

When I had graduated from college and had established my career in the family company, my parents set out to find a guy for me to marry. Things hadn't worked out well with my ex, and I hadn't been in a relationship since, as I couldn't really find any interest in the guys I knew. So I agreed to let my parents find someone for me, trusting and knowing that they would find the right person for me.

But oh how wrong I was.

Although, I don't blame them really. In the beginning I did, but eventually I realized it wasn't their fault, once I was able to look past my anger. They were deceived - we were all deceived.

At the time, he seemed to be a great guy. When he and his family came to our house to meet me, they all seemed lovely. His mother was kind, as well as his father. His older brother was very respectful and his wife very sweet. Amma and Babuji thought his family was perfect, and after speaking to him, they thought he was perfect as well. We were given brief moments to speak to each other, get to know one another, and I thought he was okay as well.

But we were wrong.

I was only 24 when I married him. Things were okay at first, his mother being nice to me and teaching me the ways of their home. His father wasn't the most stern, but he did prefer things a certain way, and he did it with kindness. My sister in-law was like a friend and we got along well, my brother in-law being like a brother.

But all of that changed quickly.

Although we had been married for 4 months, my relationship with him hadn't exactly progressed into that of a husband and wife's. Simply put - we hadn't had sex yet. We respected each other's boundaries and on our first night, we agreed to get to know each other before jumping into anything. We did sleep next to each other and share a bed, but that was as far as it ever went.

Until one night everything changed.

His brother and sister in-law went out for the evening and his parents had called it an early night, going to bed. He had still not yet returned home and I assumed him to be working late. Later on when he came home, stumbling through the door, did I realize that he had been out, getting drunk.

And that's when he approached me.


Warning: The following contains themes of sexual trauma/rape. It may be upsetting for some readers. If you do wish to avoid this content, please skip to the '*~*' symbol


"Get over here, Khushi!"

"Y-you're drunk, you need rest-"

"What I need is you laying and writhing beneath me, now get the fuck over here!"

He made a grab at me, but I moved away, and he went stumbling towards the vanity and knocked things down. He tried to position himself upright and turned to me.

"Get over here you bitch!"

Seeing the look in his eyes, I knew I was in trouble. As he came after me, I tried to escape the room, but unfortunately for me, he got to me first. He grabbed me from behind and lifted me off of my feet, turning me around and throwing me down on the bed, falling down with me. His drunken body was heavy against mine, but I still fought, trying to shove him away from me. But he was too strong for me, moving my flailing hands out of the way and assaulting my neck. As hard as I tried to pry away, I couldn't. His hands had released mine so that he could move them along my body, and I resumed my fight to free myself from him. I couldn't, him being too strong for me, and the more I fought him, the more his anger rose, until finally he growled and slapped me really hard, my lower lip getting cut in the process. They way he kissed me after that was absolutely disgusting, his tongue licking up my blood like a savage. He grinned at me like a monster and I couldn't even recognize who he was. He pulled and tore my clothes, and something within me clicked. I cried and screamed louder, still trying hard to push him off of me while his mouth assaulted different parts of my body. When I felt his hands going lower, I felt my body ready to freeze, but the sane part of me knew I couldn't allow it. Desperate, I looked around for anything that could help me and the first thing my eyes landed on was the alarm clock, the beady red light glaring out. Without even a thought, my hand grabbed for it and whacked it over his head, which was hovering over where my legs met together.

As soon as I felt him fall off of me, I didn't hesitate and grabbed my phone off of the nightstand and dashed to the bathroom, locking myself up and huddling in the tub. My fingers shook and trembled, but I managed to call the police, crying as I told the officer what had happened through the phone. Bless the woman, she stayed on the phone with me the entire time until the officers arrived. I heard the commotion from behind the door, but I didn't dare to open it. Even as several officers called out to me, I couldn't. It wasn't just because I was afraid to, but at one point I had fainted.

*~*

The memories made me shake and shudder. I remembered how I awoke in the hospital and how Amma hugged me and began crying. I cried in her arms as well and I saw the pain and shame in my father's eyes, the man refusing to look at me. Even Payal held me and cried, but Babuji was too embarrassed - too embarrassed at himself.

The cops soon came by and spoke to me and took my statement. I told them everything, my parents and sister stunned by it all as I spoke, completely monotoned as tears flowed. Of course this was taken to court and imagine my surprise when my supposed mother in-law tried to defend her son. Even my supposed father in-law. They tried to make it seem like it was just a typical husband and wife quarrel and I just felt absolutely disgusted! And I wasn't the only one; my lawyer, bless her soul, was disgusted by them as well. She fought for me and my case and thanks to her, Shyam Manohar Jha had been sentenced to 3 years in prison and fined.

I thought that once he had been sent away and my divorce had gone through, things would be okay.

But it was far from it.

Society started poking their noses in things and everyone pointed at me. Everyone whispered and muttered amongst themselves about how I had sent my husband to jail and left him with no shame whatsoever. At first it was hard, and it was always hard to see Amma and Babuji repeatedly stooping their heads low when people spoke shit.

That's when things had to change. I turned my life around, getting myself back into my work and going to the gym to strengthen myself, taking self defense classes here and there. And not only did I start to physically try to build myself, but mentally as well. It took many talks to myself in the mirror to get where I am now. Even if I have moments of weakness and feel drained, I would not stop defending myself.

Then finally, that first moment came. It was a social gathering, and some bitch of an aunty tried to make my mother and I look low, so I spoke up right in front of her face, putting her in her spot. Of course Amma and Babuji yelled at me once we got home, but I didn't step down. If no one was going to defend me, then I would just have to do it myself! And I continued to do so, and will continue to do so.

I wiped away the tears that had escaped, still staring up at the chandelier.

I will not be weak. I. WILL. NOT.

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