#14

MEDDIE’S POV

“I’ll deal with you later. Non voglio un mal di testa cosi presto al mattino.” Damiano pushed me in the room with this. “I want you to think about what you did wrong. La tua ansia accumulata mi portera solo piu piacere.” He smirked and then left, slamming and locking the door. (I don't want a headache this early in the morning. Your built up anxiety will only bring me more pleasure.)

I started thinking. But not about that stupid punishment. I already know what it’ll be. A spanking, no talking to family and friends bleh bleh bleh. I am not worried about that.

What I’m worried about is the emptiness, aloofness and worthlessness I suddenly feel.

Empty because there’s no life for me here right now. Maybe there will be in the future and maybe there would have been a life for me here in this moment, if it was my choice.

But it wasn’t.

Aloof because there’s no one for me to talk to. Plus english doesn’t really get my feelings across as good as Hindi does. I can’t call or text my mom, dad, friends, anyone.

Worthless because I don’t do anything here. I just stay in this room, alone, eat, sleep and then repeat.

But then again, these feelings aren’t new to me. I’ve always had days where I felt all three of these emotions, sometimes all three at once. Especially during moments when there would be unannounced guests invited to a close family and friends’ gathering, I would go aloof, not understanding how to mix with the people. Or a few days before my birthday. Or feeling belittled during my childhood or even teenage-hood in school, at home.

Always feeling inferior my whole life to my brother’s achievements. Never feeling appreciated. My paternal grandparents always paid attention to my brother whereas I got none. It affects a child more than anyone can guess. And it affected me on a deeper level than anyone else. Always getting compared to my brother and to my cousins.

Going to the starting, I was a very cute kid, a fit child, lean, zero fat on the body, active. I was like that till the first grade, very bubbly, running around making friends left, right and center. Second grade, we shifted houses, changed schools – my friends left behind.

Now, instead of running around, I was sitting at home, eating junk food, lots of it. Obviously I started gaining weight and getting a ponch. But I was a growing child and all that fat would’ve left my body eventually.

But society and family aren’t so forgiving. I received comments about my weight. From my grandparents, uncles, aunts, cousins, mom, dad, brother. And these weren’t sugar coated, subtle backhanded comments.

These were harsh taunts and insults. I compared myself to other kids at school. These comments never stopped. It hindered my social skills. I stopped trying to make friends. I stopped looking at myself as pretty. I only saw an unworthy piece of shit in myself. While these people talked about career, sports, politics and any fucking topic under the sun with my brother, all they could point and talk to me about was my weight, my fat, my ugly appearance.

And this continued, non stop. Years upon years of hearing just how ugly I look. I started hating my picture being taken. Because when you hear all this in your formative years, it manifests itself ten times worse in your mind and specially when you look in the mirror.

And you know the funny thing? I used to feel like the roundest circle in the world and I have very few photos from that era but in none of them am I obese. I wasn’t stick thin, but I also wasn’t ugly or anything else commented towards me.

With those comments I lost my confidence, my pride, my self esteem, my will to ever feel like or think of myself as even remotely pretty.

………

It was now the next afternoon. Time surely did pass by fast when immersed in deep thoughts.

There was a knock on the door and Fia entered.

“Hi.” I tried to smile. “Hey.” She sympathetically smiled.

“I came here to give you my phone. Call your parents and your friends.”

I looked at her, tears glazing my eyes. “Thank you!” I said gratefully.

I chatted with my parents, telling them I’m fine. My brother was still in a bitch fit. That’s what it’s like with him always. Something doesn’t go his way, someone doesn’t give him something, and his bitch fit starts. It’s not like I wanted to get kidnapped and married against my will.

I talked to my friends next, although all of them couldn’t pay full attention to the conference call. Sanjana was busy with college work, so she was in and out of the talk. Megha had gone to feed the doggos of her society. So she’d joined for a few minutes then gone off. Stuti, as always busy with her internships and all, in the call and also doing her day’s work. A multitasker she is. Pragya and Yashika were paying full attention to the call. Describing their days, what they planned on doing next.

After my phone calls, Fia was telling me something about Damiano’s childhood when a question arose to my conscious. “How did you get caught up with that asshole?”

“Who?”

“The asshole you call husband.” I replied.

“Oh, um you mean Igor?”

“Yeah that’s what I said. Asshole.” She chuckled a little.

“It was actually an-“ she stopped talking as soon as the door opened. And immediately her eyes lowered. She was obviously avoiding me as well.

“Ah! Asshole part two. Welcome in!” the sentence slipped my mouth before I could filter it.

‘You don’t have a filter.’

‘Whatever inner thoughts.’ Eye roll.

“Fia your husband’s asking for you. Leave.” Rude bitch.

“Fia you don’t have to go.” I whispered to her seriously.

“It’s ok Meddie. Don’t worry.” She squeezed my hand in reassurance then left the room.

“You really know how to piss me of tesoro.” He fixed his cufflinks. (Dear.)

“So I got to know about two calls being made from Fia’s phone. One to your parents, and the other one, a conference call to your friends. Pretty long ones too.” Pause. I shrugged.

"Non posso scopare…You know what I won’t deal with you right now. I have a headache-" (I can't fucking...)

“So what? Am I supposed to care about you?” I cut in.

Suddenly I was off the bed, my head hitting the wall, breath stuck in my throat. “Sach bol do to sabko mirchi lagti hai. What the fuck is wrong with you dude?” (Everyone gets pissy when I speak the truth.)