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My Father Refused To Protect Me From My Brother And This Is Why I'm Glad He Didn't

( words)
*For representational purpose only.
Fairy lands, unicorns, barbies, and pretty dreams- there is an age where the only problem or trouble you should have is choosing the flavour of the ice cream you wish to eat.

At this very age, when I had to worry about being home at 5 o’ clock in the evening so that I could watch my favourite show on TV, I had to go through something that left me lifeless.

It broke my spirit to such tiny and sharp pieces that going through to pick them up would only leave me even more wounded with deep cuts and blood oozing out. And it was no stranger who caused me to become this way.

It was my own brother, my blood related younger brother.

Why did I have to be at the receiving end of those creepy hand movements on my back and breasts? Why did I have to face the terrible questions of my parents? Why did I have to face all of this alone?

I was only a young girl who couldn’t sleep alone on one bed, and having a younger brother around was just as good because you didn’t have to get up from the bed just to switch off the lights or get the jar of water from the kitchen. Besides, we always used to chit-chat enough until we slept. But then something happened, something bad. The youngest child of the family became the devil and I couldn’t see it coming soon enough until one day I felt something really cold and creepy moving from my back upwards towards my breasts. 

This was not just one thing though; initially it happened a couple of times wherein I couldn’t think of it as a sexual violation but as days passed by, I realized that something was wrong. One day it would be my back, the other day it would be my breasts, someday I could feel the coldness dancing all over my body. A chill sense of dread would take over me.

It eventually became familiar, weird, and scary. All at the same time. 

And as we were taught, “Anything happens, you tell papa and papa takes care of everything after that”. Like a good daughter to a good father, I went up to my father and broke down in front of him. My head on his lap, his right hand was on my forehead and I could feel each pulse and watch his deep agony as he was told what his son was doing with his daughter.

He couldn’t handle the truth and left the situation to its own fate. He didn’t talk to me for weeks and I couldn’t understand why! What had I done that he could abandon me as his daughter? It’s not that he was in a state of shock because the way I was excluded from everything at home right before my birthday and including him in everything they did, was not acceptable to me and seemed normal for them.

No one would care if I ate, slept or smiled. I was alone, alone fighting with the demons in my own head, alone trying to realise what had just happened, and facing his terrible eyes staring at me every single day.

All I wanted to do was run, run so fast and so far that nobody could ever be able to find me. I never slapped him or told him anything, not because I was not gallant enough to face him, but because I had to bring myself together first.

I only had a little strength left in me- I wanted to use it in a place where I could become stronger first.

Trembling hands, shivering body and quivering lips were my only companions in those dark, long, never-ending nights.

But this made me stronger, so much stronger than I ever knew I could be. Not having anybody to cling on to while I was broken did add its weight to my confidence and attitude. I don’t know if this is believable, but all this made me a humble person. A person who is aware of the deepest and darkest truths of life and relationships. It made me a rock who is not affected by the sun, wind, rain or storm.

I could analyse the situation, come up with solutions to unsaid problems and I could understand the purpose of my life. I nearly tore myself apart to bring out this version of myself to life. And now, I stand as an individual with a unique identity, I don’t stay with my parents anymore but I keep visiting them regularly to make sure things are okay at home.

I have a confident persona and people look up to me as their inspiration. Though this story is not known to anyone except for me and those dark nights, I somehow dedicate my today to my yesterday. 

No one deserves to go through such horror, no one deserves to “not be loved”, no one deserves to lose trust on everyone, especially their own parents. Most importantly, no one deserves to lose their own identity.

It is very important for people to realise the meaning of life, and understand that we can not take it for granted. If at all we feel like running away and leaving things behind, it is probably the time to NOT go anywhere and face all of it as it comes.

I have passed through hundreds of such hurdles since then; but I’ve never looked back with regret. I have always drawn out my way towards the good and was never deluded by life’s many attractions. If I had to tell every scared little girl something, it would be quite simple- it is only you who will get your best version before your own eyes. Surprise yourself sweetheart! You can do wonders.

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