20- The past (Part 1)

                                        

                                              
WARNING- Some triggering scenes ahead. This chapter is in third person point of view. 
***
Six years ago... 
“Are you coming, Natasha?”
The girl in question stared into space. Her classmates were planning to watch a movie the following weekend. It was a movie starring her favourite actor, John Abraham. She was about to open her mouth when she remembered her spat with mother last time. She wanted to watch a movie with a bunch of girls. Girls, not boys. Just what was wrong with that? It was something she would never understand in a thousand years. 
“I... can't.” Natasha replied, hugging herself. She instantly shuddered, recalling the hot, burning lashes slapping her sides last time. Her classmates asked if they could convince her parents on phone. Instead, she forced a smile, despite the growing lump in her throat. “It's okay. Maybe next time. Thanks.”
“Okay, if you say so...” They said, shrugging. She watched as her classmates walked out, carrying excited grins as they discussed their plans. 
She walked home with a heavy heart. 
* * * 
Natasha had been a studious child as long as she remembered. Studies were a means of escape for her into the world that made sense. Not like the nonsensical reality before her. It was one thing her parents never complained about. 
It was the perfect place to hide. 
As a child, Natasha had always been rebellious. In her eyes, she was playful, wild and free— she wanted to do what she wanted. In her parents eyes, however, she was disobedient, ill- mannered and uncontrollable— she would never listen to them. As a result, they beat her. For them, it as a means of control and discipline. But deep down, it was a way to vent their anger. Even if their anger wasn't always directed at her. She only realised it later on, when too many shits were spat upon. Hands, chappals, combs, belt, utensils, broom, you name it— she had been beaten up by everything her mother put her hands on. Her father didn't hit her as much as her mother but when he did, she was sure to remember it for days. His hands  were nothing less than a wooden stick. That was the shattering impact he had on her. ‘It's normal. I probably deserve it,’ she told herself. Some of her friends got smacked, too. Hell, even Sahil (her brother) couldn't escape the painful clutches of their mother. He used to laugh when Natasha got hit while she did the same when the situations were reversed. Both of them would cry and laugh about it afterwards. In a way, they were each other's solace. 
'Don't worry, if worst comes to the worst, we'll run away and live in an apartment, all by ourselves. We will be there for each other.' Were Sahil's words when she cried for a long time. She knew he was making it up but it was comforting. They actually had a real sibling bonding back then. Atleast until Mitali grew up. 
Eventually Sahil stopped getting beaten by the age of twelve. Not Natasha though. She was still getting abused at the age of fifteen.
But things weren't the same as before. Her mother's slaps didn't feel normal as back then. They hurt, physically and emotionally. They hurt more when the objects hit her boobs and ass which were on their stage of puberty. It was traumatizing when she felt her father's wrath on her. She wouldn't dare come out of her room on those days. She was a big girl now. She insisted them to stop, but they didn't. To make matters worse, her beloved brother started distancing away from her. He was becoming less like the Sahil she loved, and more like her mother Natasha despised. 
It was embarrassing. Embarrassing when she got slapped in front of everyone in her parent- teacher meetings, just because she got lesser marks in hi온라인카지노게임 as compared to science. She got embarrassed when she was asked about the red marks on her hands and legs by her classmates. She was embarrassed to come to school. If only they didn't have skirts as their uniform.