She opened her eyes, to the raucous sounds of a catfight, that emanated from outside. Turning to lift herself from the ramshackle bed, she heard him snoring loudly, his body stretched on the floor beneath, bearing a grimace, a broken bottle lying next to him— the one he had used to hit her.
If the smell of liquor and sweat nauseated her, the thought of having to give in to his aberrations every night, or the strange acts he forced on her, filled her with loathing, even more, making her sick to the core.
Seeing the door unlocked that morning, she saw a chance. With every cell in her being conspiring to fill her with courage, she pushed past the door, slipped out into the open, with the cold air brushing against her face. She knew it was now or never.
So, she took to her heels and started running, out of the alley, onto the streets, jumping over potholes, ignoring the traffic lights, gasping for air, clinging onto dear life, blinded by an overwhelming sense of fear and confusion.
Just then, a deafening sound echoed, followed by a shrieking wail that rent the air. A cacophony of dissonant voices stalled the streaming cars, as people stopped to see what had happened.
Later, newsflashes reported a hit-and-run accident, where the victim was a 15-year-old girl, who was fighting for her life in a city hospital. Little did the world know, innocence had died a million deaths over and over again.
This Flash Fiction was written for the fifth edition of #FictionMonday, a blog hop hosted by my very talented friend, Vinitha Dileep on her blog, ‘Reflections‘ based on the word prompt ‘innocent’.
What a sad story that was. Even though this is fictitious, child abuse is a reality and I suppose even death is a better end than endless torture. But to think that the heroine actually wanted to live and died instead was an irony of fate…
You are spot on, Sunita. Child abuse cases are sometimes truly horrifying. This story was inspired by one such.
Thank you so much for stopping by the blog and sharing your thoughts, Sunita. I’ve not been blogging regularly, hence my delay in responding to your comment.
Oh how sad that this freedom came so expensive or maybe this is the way she would have wanted it. Its indeed a very sad state of affairs in our country where millions of women are abused daily with no respite in sight.
Your words recreated the dark cruel situation that she was in…. Was her escape indeed an escape ? Heartbreaking narration…
Thank you so much, Archana! Alas the story of many a young woman who undergo repression, violence and eventual death at the hands of their perpetrators!! Sometimes, death is the only escape for them.
Wow, Esha, that gave me goosebumps!
Please write more fiction…you are a natural. ♡
So very kind of you, my friend! Glad you say so. I’m trying to do my best, you know. Keeping regular and staying consistent for now. Hope it sees me through.
Superbly brilliant piece of writing. I agree with Vinitha’s words about the build up. The build-up was thrilling and full of suspense. The ending was heartbreaking. I wish I had adequate words in me to explain how much I liked reading this.
Thank you so much, Anamika! Trying to stay focused on the writing and the consistency part, so that some good comes out of regular practice. You will know best when you read me in the later posts if any good is coming out of the practice. :))
You my goodness! This is truly a heartbreaking story, Esha. I hope that she recovers and regains her health, and maybe some day she would be able to get past the mental trauma.
You write so well, Esha. The flow is supreme and the narration is captivating. Please do write more.
Thank you so much, Vinitha! You are very kind. As I told you in my earlier response to your comment on the other story—”I’m keeping at it.” 🙂