I’m the middle of three girls, with my older sister two years ahead and my twin just minutes behind.
From the start, I felt responsible to protect my sisters, quietly praying for their safety despite my own fears.
The Day Everything Broke
When I was in LKG, a trivial misunderstanding exploded into a nightmare. My uncle, inflamed by lies and the haze of alcohol, attacked my father.
Instead of words, he wielded a blade and slashed my father’s hand. I remember the metallic sting of blood pooling on our kitchen tiles, the way my small fingers shook as I pressed against his wound.
The sight of my father’s scarred hand reminds me still of that day’s terror.
Haunted Childhood
By sixth grade, I could no longer sleep.
Night after night, my mind replayed that morning’s horror and invented new terrors. I lay awake in darkness, petrified of falling into dreams I could never escape.
At school, friendships blossomed for everyone else but me.
Even my sisters grew closer to each other, leaving me on the periphery as though I were invisible.
Milestones of Pain
1. Eighth Grade Exams
I struggled so much to hold a pen that I looped rubber bands around my trembling hands.
2. My Father’s Accident
On the eve of those final exams, my father fainted from low blood pressure and shattered his leg against our sofa’s sharp edge. I walked into the exam hall next morning in clothes stained by my tears.
3. Loss of My Grandmother
During my ninth grade finals, the only grandmother I ever truly loved passed away. In her absence, a piece of my childhood slipped away forever.
The Descent into Darkness
Panic attacks and anxiety shadowed me every waking moment.
A psychiatrist diagnosed me with depression and prescribed medications that silenced my inner turmoil—but also stole my ambition.
I became a ghost in classrooms and corridors, craving oblivion more than learning. In a moment of utter despair, I asked my parents for permission to die.
My father’s tears fell like shards of glass, cutting through my resolve and leaving me hollow.
Unveiling the Curse
When all medical treatments failed, my father turned to ancient beliefs.
He discovered that I had been cursed by three strangers I once trusted. Black magic, he was told, fueled my nightmares and physical frailty.
I was stunned, why would anyone target me, a quiet girl who wore no makeup and never sought attention?
Emerging from the Shadows
In the midst of that darkness, unexpected hope appeared:
My Twin’s Devotion
Riyanka learned to iron my clothes, to sit with me through fits of panic, to hold my hand until the storm passed.
A Father’s Daily Care
Even from abroad, my father called every day before buying anything for home, as though each conversation were a lifeline.
The Mirror of Jealousy
I realized that cruelty and envy say more about those who inflict them than those who endure them and I chose to let that mirror reflect my own strength.
Lessons??
I share this story not for sympathy but as proof that ordinary lives can carry extraordinary battles.
If my scars can offer courage to anyone who reads these words, then every tear, every sleepless night, every drop of blood will have served its purpose.
Trauma can shatter or it can shape.
I chose to be shaped into someone stronger, someone who refuses to drift away.