A Realistic Fiction
CAUTION: Reader’s discretion is advised as this story contains graphic violence.
(Sigh)… I really don’t know how to start my tale. My fingers are trembling as I woefully hit the keys of my keyboard striking each new word at a dying pace. A part of me wants to dictate what I have experienced over my course of my life while the other part craves to slip this away deep into the abyss of my very soul. But I have decided that I won’t stop once I come near my laptop. People need to know, they certainly need to know because I can’t allow anyone to feel the same pain which I experienced half a decade ago.
Sometimes evil lurks in the most flamboyant fashion- mostly unnoticed by the naked eyes and unrealized by the credulous of the minds and then it unfolds and start showing its true colors, hush… that is when it always gets too late to reprimand anything and then you see your life crumble away in front of your eyes, your mind and body being too powerless even when it comes to defending yourself as well as your family.
It feels like decades since I have laid my words in order because I can’t seem to remember the last time I have written an account or a story or anything. This is perhaps going to go long so please do bear with me. Perhaps you will learn a deep lesson from my experience, especially when it comes to trusting your nearest family members.
At first let me give you a background history of myself and my family. I was born in a very modest and average-graded family, our desires for luxuries had always been limited by my father’s struggles in finding a decent job. At least that is what we had always believed. My father served the government at the Ministry of Health as a health policy advisor for the new millennium regulation for more than two decades. In our part of the world, government jobs have always been regarded ‘most secure’ and also the ‘least lucrative’ of any jobs there can be. The government officials barely make anything for them to make a decent living. Thus in the long run they always need to rely on bribes, lobbying and fund embezzlement just to grab a chance in the being a part of the upper class. My father, thankfully, was a different man, choosing to rot with what he had rather than devour his own share of bribes. He would always pompously recount incidents to us where he heroically avoided events of embezzlement and looting. My father was in fact a hero to both of us- my sister, Saira and I until time chose to take its evil turn.
My mother had always been a docile person- being more than ten years younger than my father, however, she had the blessing of appearing more than two decades younger than him. She had always been a loving mother, always dutiful towards her task. Despite her becoming a mother at a very early age, she had always been mature enough to make the most sophisticated decisions. It was upon her discretion that I got to go to one of the best schools in my country despite it clearly had put a strain on my father’s wallet, when our condition wasn’t that well. But my father, somehow, seemed to put everything well in hand and we were not deprived of our needs.
Then things started to clearly change. It was when I turned seven, I started noticing that my father’s face would always turn to glower at my mother whenever she asked for money.
“It is the beginning of the month, I am sure you got your salary by now, please I do require this month’s allowance.” My mother asked her husband politely.
“I don’t have this month’s money.” My father snapped.
“What do you mean? This is the beginning of the month. We still haven’t paid the bills. How can you say that you are already short of cash?”
“I told you I got no cash. And if you really care about your allowance, why don’t you go to your rich father of yours? He did not even bother to give my family a bit of dowry from his mountain of affluence and now you are pestering me about giving you some cash.”
“What are you talking about? You are a doctor and you do your practice but still you keep on bringing my father…” My mother could not keep her composure, her demeanor swiftly changed as her face cringed as she broke to tears. This happened right in early of the morning, right when I was about to leave for school with my father. This was the first time I saw my father like this and I was perplexed regarding whether it would be a good idea to go with my father leaving my mother in such a derogatory state.
“Come on chap, we better be off, otherwise are going to be late.” My father called.
I was flustered by the coolness of his tone. Shouldn’t he be feeling a bit ashamed, even to the slightest bit at the very least for treating his wife like this…?
My mother gestured to me to leave and I had no other choice. On our way to the school my father did not blurt out even a single letter and to my surprise, his countenance didn’t even represent the slightest bit of contriteness. I also sat beside him in complete silence.
On the very same day, during nighttime, was to me, the most horrifying night, I have every experienced. I suddenly rose up from my sleep upon having a need to go to the toilet. But then I heard soft cries and whimpers of a female coming from the next room. It was coming from my parent’s room. That was well enough to let fear sprint through my spine. I felt petrified with a mixture a hopelessness. I did not know what to do. It took a while for me to muster my courage and stagger to my parent’s room. The door remained slightly opened. As I peeked through the opening, what I saw, still shakes the bone marrow out of me. My father bashed a slap across my mother’s face and the blow was strong enough to send her flying as her head thudded on the headboard of the bed. Not being able to tolerate this gruesome sight, I pushed the door open to reveal myself. My father glanced back at me feeling shocked which was soon transpired to a blinding rage. My mother daintily sat up and it was at that time I saw that her clothes were badly ripped with barely any stripe of her apparel lay dangling on her shoulders. She gently took her glance off me as she bashfully picked up pieces of her ripped clothing to cover herself. My father stood up and strode towards me and before I could react he stamped a wild kick at my abdomen, I fell down with a loud thud and the last thing I heard was my mother calling out my name before the door slammed right before me. The pain was unbearable since this was the first time I had ever received a corporal punishment from the man I once looked up to.
I crawled to the doorway and rested my ears on the door. The cries and whimpers of my mother still persisted in the air but there existed an additional noise- a series of loud thumping noises. Soon enough I started feeling dizzy. My abdomen cringed in pain as I felt a hot stream of urine soiling my shorts. Before long, I passed out.
The next morning, when I woke up, I realized that I had been carried to my bed. I rose up, feeling completely perplexed and dazed. When I made to the dining room, I noticed that both of parents were ‘chirping merrily’ while they had their breakfast which seemed irrational to the event that occurred last night. They were behaving as if nothing ever happened between them. Now this confused me like anything. I began to doubt whether the scene I had witnessed yesterday was actually a dream, or rather a nightmare. That is when I realized something. I reached out my right hand to touch my abdomen. I clearly felt the pain which was pressed in me last night. That is when I noticed something else as well. My shorts have been changed… perhaps by the hands of my mother.
It wasn’t a dream, I gulped as I tried to put all the pieces of yesterday’s messed up event together. There was clearly something which was definitely going wrong and my parents are concealing it from me.
Upon seeing me, my mother calmly called out to me to have a seat right next to my father. Fear and agitation swiftly sprang up to my heart as I knew if I refused to sit next to my father, he would surely rewind his torment on my mother similar to what I had witnessed last night or he might even turn far more vicious than before. Without any second thought, I skipped into my seat where I already felt shaken by his shadow which casted on me. I glanced at him, he just shot me a weak, wordless smile and then returned to his meal. And then something spiked my attention which was well enough to convince me that I wasn’t dreaming anything last night.
On her forehead, I clearly saw bruises- deeply plastered by the cruelty of my father…
He is so merciless… Has he always been like this? I almost blurted out but couldn’t. Even after all this, even after my mother having to tolerate all this insanity, my father still failed to perform his duties as her husband.
It took me few years to decipher the origin of that thudding noise when the doors closed that night and once I finally did, I practically lost all my respect for my father. My mother, the woman my father vowed to protect all his life was being enslaved by his lascivious desire in the name of engaging in ‘marital intimacy’- this was something unforgivable from my end and the memory of me being completely powerless against my father still agonizes me to this very day. But this wasn’t the end, I really wished it was, but deep in the foreseeable future of my life, far darker secrets lay banefully ahead of me- patiently waiting to be finally told.
Part 2
Published in Reddit NoSleep as Creepomaniac: https://www.reddit.com/r/nosleep/comments/5xzw4f/the_dark_secret_part_1/
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