My brother hated being called by his actual name and that is why I took his name with emphasis. He had no right to ask me about my whereabouts and activities but according to his twisted sense of responsibility he had to keep an eye on me. He often taunted me that I was just like our mother. To say that it made my blood boil would be an understatement. He was following the footsteps of dad with his angry stares and drunk manhandling. I was so sick of their unnecessary shouting and probing that I one day thought about killing them in their sleep.
I assure you I do not have psychopathic tendencies. I used to wake up from nightmares where my ears couldn't stop ringing from my mother's screams and pleas. I was afraid that Zaviyan would turn out to be like my father. It was better to kill him than to let him ruin someone's life but then again I refrained from doing that since mom liked him more than me despite the fact he never showed an ounce of care for her.
Your fathers shape your perception of men and in my case I started looking at every man with my distrustful gaze or a disgusted one. I prayed everyday for his death so my mother could live peacefully. In the later years I developed a sense of fear too. I couldn't sleep without fearing something terrible would happen or a man would barge into my room and my little hands wouldn't be able to stop anything. I wanted to let out all my painful screams but all I could do was swallow them and pray to God about it.
I used to talk to God and tell him how my father destroyed my mother. How my mother hated me, how both of them were so engrossed in their battle that they forgot that I had screamed and told them about my sadness and shame multiple times. How many times I tried to tell them about what had happened with me. There were times when I had tried to slit my wrists with the knife that still resided underneath my bed but my inner hope in God had stopped me from taking that step.
I was so entrenched in my thoughts that I didn't notice Zaviyan was now standing in front of me with that angry expression, " You think you've learnt 2 3 words and now you are better than me, huh?" he laughed bitterly and crossed his arms.
I just stared at him blankly and didn't consider him worthy enough for a reply. I mean I didn't think enough about him to even consider myself better than him.
"Fucking reply to me, Khansa!" he shouted at my face and painfully gripped my arm.
It hurt like a bitch but I considered myself a bigger bitch so I snatched my arm from him and took out my taser from my pocket that I had used multiple times on many guys and my violent brother so I could just breathe like a normal person. Sadly, he knew about my old move and instantly snatched it away from me with a mocking smile, "You still think you can scare your brother away with this useless weapon"? he made tsk tsk sounds before pushing me away so hard that I felt like the air got swooshed out of my lungs and I didn't know that my head had connected with the wall behind me until the blood started trickling down and pattered on my worn out sneakers. The tears started leaking out of my eyes without my permission. I hated that no matter how many times I tried to make my mind stronger, my body disappointed me with its pathetic tears.
He smiled like a psychopath upon seeing them and neared closer while patting my head, "Now that's how little sisters are supposed to be" he then threw my taser into the dustbin before leaving with his words, "Like mother, Like daughter" his words cut me so deep that I wanted to let out a blood curdling scream but I didn't. I only swiped away these tears and took out the taser from the dustbin and went to my room. I locked it and took deep breaths before standing in front of the mirror in a defeated manner.