Set Me Free

She stood on a stage surrounded by a thin black sheet of glass. There were many people sitting outside watching her whereas she could see none. She held the mike stand so tight so that she does not fall. The sweat tinkled down from her chest to the navel, making her fear visible on her clothes. 

“Why do I have to do this” she thought to herself. Is it necessary to come out? She trembled as the memories gushed into her brain, her lips dry and her throat swallowing the shame, the fear of the aftermath. Would she be able to withstand the blame? Why can’t secrets be taken to the grave? It is ok to have wings and not fly. It is ok to be sad, hopeless and disturbed, yet deny.  She prayed for this trauma to stop. She begged for her thoughts to go. It only made her numb ever more with pain. A deep secret within her stayed on, although she tried to let go, but in vain.

A very long ago, when she was little, she knew of many people who were not so little. They were family and few friends of the parents. They were good people, who helped, shared and cared. She ran, she jumped, she played with them. She sat on their laps and listened to stories. She was carried and caressed and fed. She would rest with them on the bed, woke up with them and visited places. Day’s and night passed by with these people by her side. She was a happy child, who could deny. Her life was perfect, until one day, something had happened at night she recalled, her life had changed from there on in every single way.  

Whom could she blame? Should she even blame? Unaware of what it even meant. Her parents were careless and free not aware of the tragedy that had happened to their bumble bee. She does not know. She demands to know, yet she rather remains silent. For couple of weeks she bore the pain of the wound dug in her body secretly, which later turned to be a scar in her heart. She ran, she jumped, she played with glee. But then she would slow down and remember what had been done to her. “Was it ok? Maybe yes, I am overthinking. Why would anyone want to harm a small child?” She consoled herself.

She ached to tell somebody. She wanted to understand. She looked around for answers but everyone and everything seemed normal, yet her heart pumped in doubt.

She turned towards her Mother. She opened her mouth to reveal. Her Mother was on the phone, congratulating and sharing the joy of the new of wedding bells ringing. “I guess what happened isn’t bad at all! Maybe I am over reacting. Why would anyone do things like that with a child?” She turned back and sat down for homework. It was Math. Born intelligent! She didn’t know what that meant anymore. She could not solve problems; she could not read. She didn’t concentrate at school or have real friends. Her parents didn’t understand her, they constantly compared.

One day she grew tall enough to reach the mirror. She stood there smiling at herself. “I am pretty, I am good, my eyes define; the pain that has been following since I was a child, yet no one shall see, for no one knows, the secret shall go with me, wherever I go. No person shall hear my soul screaming within, no Man shall know the wound that has set in; My hair is so long. My nose looks so naughty, what lies do they hide? My lips feel tender and my arms have grown strong. My skin feels soft and fine. What is this? Its growing big, this must be the breasts, which means I am growing, and I am finally 9”

Her Mother caught her in the act, beat her black and blue. She covered the mirror with sheets of paper and said, “You must not touch you”!!!

She sunk deep and accepted defeat. If I must not touch me, then was it ok that he touched me? “

Days passed by and became years. She finally realized what it meant and shed many tears. She could not contain her hormones were restless. She blew it out of proportion, but no one could care less.

Her Mother yelled “Why didn’t you tell me when it happened? Who was it? Do we know them?”

What could she say other than “Leave it, it doesn’t matter”; But still she wanted to come out, but it was not easy. For these not so little people who did wrong, were old now with families of their own.

It would shatter every soul, every smile. It would break their ground and they would deny. Would her parents believe; “after all you were just a kid”. What would you know if it was wrong or right? what justice would it service now, 30 years later!

She cried herself to sleep. Her wounds healed by scars remained. She met good men, but the trust would never regain.

She went to sleep that night, dreaming of her Mother. Yelling and screaming asking her to come out and point out those who did that to her. She stood there on the stage not knowing who was on the other side. One by one she spilled out the names and fell to the ground when she was done.

She woke up screaming, all sweaty and scared. She knew it then, it was just a dream, this is going with her to the grave.

Now she has an offspring, she knows for sure, no evil could touch her bumble bee no more. She protects it like an angel who has a halo and a sword.

Touch my little body and you will see the devil’s wrath. This is not your toy to play with or break it when your done. It is the temple of my soul pure and tidy. If you do not treat it right, you are not worthy.