She was a story without a plot. Too young to understand that she was growing up, too old to act like the child she still was from inside.
Life is like a fairytale, except that the ends are not always happy, and that there is no fairy in it.
She used to be very different once, very different. You know those cheerful people everyone seems to love? Yeah, she was that kind of person. Now she is just a dead shadow of what she used to be. No cheer, no beaming smiles to everyone. She lived in an invisible shell, impenetrable, she barely talked.
People wish for wealth all their lives. They don’t realise money can buy you the most exquisite pleasures, but some things can’t be bought. Told you about fairytales? Yes, our protagonist lived in a palace, one of the wealthiest families the city had. The place was never short of anything, except love. Everyone was too embroiled in savouring the luxuries their lives had to offer. Why bother for your family When they had fortunes to help them.
It was 13th November 2014. You don’t forget some dates. The last day she was what she used to be. Walking in the splendid gardens, talking to her friend on phone, she didn’t notice the hand that clawed onto her waist. The phone fell off into the murkiness of garden, while her shouts were muffled by his left hand. He ran his hand inside her clothing, she tried fighting back, but some scratches don’t bother a fully built man. “You like it, don’t you?” He whispered into a lifeless her. She tried shouting, again to realise the hand enveloping her mouth. He just left when he felt it was enough for him.
She laid on the ground, shivering, baffled from the fact that it was her uncle who did that to her. She knew that voice, how couldn’t she? She would never get tired calling out her favourite ‘Chachu’ and playing with him while she was younger. You could hear her soul breaking, her trust shattered. She just didn’t know how her joyous life was transformed to a pile of misery in some seconds. She was too perplexed to react, to tell that to anyone.
She thought it was a one-off thing, but she was wrong. It became a routine. Everytime he came, he made newer inroads to her body, like she was a toy. “I am your uncle, no one believes you kid. You don’t know what I will do to your parents” He always said with a devious grin. She was too numb to share that with someone. No one cared about the girl who kept weeping in her solitude all day, who imagines that she has a serious issue when everyone was busy living their own expensive lives. He never realised, his few moments of pleasure scarred her for a lifetime.
Under the shawl of darkness, you could hear those footsteps move towards the bed. Trying their best to remain hush, they prance towards the bed. She knew it was time. She knew it was the end. They stand there, contemplating.
A sharp thud and clink broke the silence of the peaceful dawn. A devil laid lifeless in bed, pieces of glass protruding from his face, eyes gaping into eternity. The digital clock on the side table read 06-March-2015, as the sun rose over the horizon, and kissed the crimson shades of blood flowing from his body, the colour of her victory, world woke up to the occasion of Holi, to mark the win of right over wrong. She stood there, holding the broken wine bottle she brought with her, a 13-year old murderer forced to bring her own justice. What she will never get back is her soul he killed, the day he touched her.