Her FaceBook Friend

Her Facebook Friend By Ifveen Chapter 27

“Self-harm is not a disease. It’s a spell that is cast on us in the weakest moments.” [Jacqueline]

….

[Jacqueline’s pov]

Sometimes I love that time pa**es. That it won’t stop for anyone. Because sometimes getting through a night alive is the most audacious thing. Like last night I felt the need to just kill myself. The need to remove the pain of these sufferings. Is death that horrible? Or is it because people have never been able to get through the real hidden secret of it that they blubber against deaths. Have you ever felt that? The feeling of just get the day over. So you won’t have to stay in the same place that is hurting you? Huh. What I am even asking, everyone, does feels that. Not just sometimes. But various times.

After I returned home, I found Daddy hitting Mummy again. Her cries in agony pierced my heart. Her tears doing nothing just shattering my heart.

‘Does anyone deserve this? Even if she had mental disorders. She doesn’t deserve to be treated that way.’

The thoughts lined up in the back of my head and I clenched my fists. It seems the few men I have had the pleasure of having in my life had a knack for violence. First my dad and then Jaan and then Rohan.

“Please Stop punching her dad. Why are you hitting her?”

He turned around, his black eyes blazing in fury and I drew in a sharp breath to maintain the facade of courageous girl. A word that has nothing to do with me. While in truth I was too scared to even match his glare.

“She had cooked this egg curry instead of vegetables, and on top of that, she had screamed her lungs out that I have swapped her cooked dish with someone else. This crazy s***ty woman.”

“She is ill dad. Please leave her.”

“He had swapped my dish with a neighbor Leila I swear.”

I ignored her a**ertion. In schizophrenia, people create their imaginations which lead them to believe in it.

“Shh. Please mo. I mean Aunty.”

“Aunty?” His angry voice reverberated through the yellow walls of the verandah and I shivered.

“Please, Dad. Stop it.”

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“Why are you calling her Aunty? And who is Leila?”

“Dad, please.”

A harsh slap landed on my face and I tumbled down on the floor.

“Don’t you dare to raise your voice on me? I am not paying for your a** just so you can raise your voice on me. s***.”

Tears gathered in my eyes and I bit my lip to stop them from gushing out.

‘He is right Jacqueline. You are living on his money. You can not afford to àngry him.’

My eyes clenched shut as I tried to blur his curses that he was throwing at us. After an hour when he was too tired to speak, he ordered me to fetch a gla** of water for him, and I the one without any respect followed his command without any word.

‘Mom always said that one silent person beats hundreds.’ And I did for the first time in my life I won and understood that the strength of silence and preference gives you the power to win anything you face.

After drinking water, he left home maybe for eating food in a hotel.

I sighed in a little relief. Anyone who had an abuser in their home will agree with me, that when they leave home it soothes us. It helps us to retain our patience.

Helping mom to the bad, I asked whether she was hungry. She nodded her head and I was almost heading to the kitchen when she spoke again.

Her voice is a little hoarse from all the crying while she hiccuped in completing a sentence.

“The egg curry I. I. Prepared. He threw it on the road, before he. He started hitting me. And I think the utensils would still be on the road.”

My hands clenched while my body shook from her words. Visibly surprised I walked to the door to check if it was her imagination or was she right?

But there it was a large stainless steel pot and the curry s***tered all over the street coloring the road in yellow. While a few dogs were eating up the eggs happily. My eyes stung at least someone was happy because of his cruel ways.

Exhaling I picked it up. Tears falling from my eyes to the pot. I cried at my misery.

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“Oh My God! Did Dad throw the curry here? Or was it mom?”

Nikki’s voice made me inhale sharply as I wiped the tears from my sleeves trying to control my emotions.

After making sure there were no more tears I turned around looking at her with a half-smile. Her tall form towering above mine, yellow street light shining on her square-shaped face. The backpack behind her told me she must have been in one of her tutions.

“Yes. He did.” Even I was surprised that my voice would come out that calm.

Immediately after she stepped towards me. Her black eyes filling with concern.

“Oh, my God Jacky! Did he hit you?”

My eyes widening in realization. I didn’t want to speak because I knew if I did my voice will betray my calm face.

I turned around quickly and walked up to the gate. Mumbling a small no. Because I wasn’t able to express to her what has happened without crying.

That night after preparing a potato curry for mom and her I retired to my room. I wasn’t hungry. Not even a bit. Hah! Who would be? If they are slapped a tenth of times in a day.

Nikki had tried asking me what happened but I simply chose to ignore her making her feel like I was too busy to answer her questions. That way at least one of us would be able to sleep in peace.

The earlier scene flashed in my mind like a dark movie. One when mom used to beat me almost every day without a concrete reason. Because she was mentally unstable. And then to my father when he used to beat us for every single thing that happened badly. As if we were responsible for his misery. The thoughts of self-harm consumed my mind and for a moment I wanted to try killing myself.

‘What’s the use of this life? If I am only going to suffer? Maybe death would make me feel peace! Maybe I will be happy there. Maybe everyone’s sufferings will end! Maybe dad will finally realize to never abuse a woman without a solid reason? If I kill myself! Will he?’

Hesitantly I picked up the fruit knife on the table wanting to slice it through my wrist. Tears shedding on the shinier part of it.

‘God, should I come to you?’

‘Please, God! Forgive me for this sin that I am going to commit!’

‘Will you forgive me today God?’

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‘If you don’t want me to kill myself? Then please kill me! Please! I want to come to you. I am done here!’

Closing my eyes I took a deep breath and started a small cut. Blood gushing out from the small wound but I didn’t feel any pain. Was it possible that my brain was not working anymore? That my sense failed to send signals to my brain?

‘Hah. What I am thinking? I should just slice it in one go. Then there will be more possibility of my death.’

As I tried to embed the pointy part to my wrist more by applying pressure a sudden notification scared me and the knife fell from my hand. Creating a noise of tang and I came out of my reverie.

Horrified I looked down as the blood fell drop by drop on the knife and white floor staining both in red.

‘Oh, God! What was I doing? In a weak moment, I was going to kill myself?’

‘What will happen to Nikki? If you killed yourself? She will have to endure this s***ty life alone and there would be no one to share her pain. Do you want that jack?’ A voice in my head reprimanded and advised me and I found myself unable to reply.

‘Maybe it would have ceased my pain. But do I want Nikki to stay in this life alone?’

The answer was quick. ‘No.’ I would never want that.

Another notification’s voice popped up and I came out of my thoughts realizing I still had a wound to attend to.

My feet took me to the corner of the wooden table and I picked up the first aid from it. Applying the Dettol on the wound followed by the topical antiseptic cream.

After I was done, I walked up to the bed taking the phone to check who was my Saviour.

Remo’s name flashed on the screen. And I found myself staring at his text.

“Hey.”

“Sorry about earlier. I was angry.”