SHADOWS OF SORROW
Oyih Joy@joyoyih936684
13 days ago
CHAPTER TWO: ECHOES OF THE PAST.
The truth was, Zahira was not simply grieving; she was unraveling. The memories of her childhood, long buried, were clawing their way to the surface, each one more painful than the last. Her father, a man she had long since tried to forget, haunted her thoughts.
Zahira's father was a man of volatile temperament, his words sharp as knives and his actions leaving scars that no one could see. The weight of his cruelty bore down on Zahira's shoulders like a heavy burden, poisoning her mind and soul with each passing day. His very presence in the house was a specter that haunted her every moment, a reminder of a childhood marred by fear and loathing.
He was a brutal man, he had ruled their household with an iron fist, unleashing his wrath on anyone who dared defy him. Zahira’s mother had borne the brunt of his cruelty, but the scars he left on Zahira and her sisters were just as deep.
She remembered the nights when her father would come home reeking of alcohol, his eyes bloodshot and filled with a rage she could never understand. Her mother would try to shield them, to keep them out of his way, but it was never enough. Zahira had learned early on that her father despised the fact that her mother only bore female children and he despised her for that and in extension them as well, To him, they were nothing more than properties, to be used and discarded at will. They had no meaningful values to him as such were a steep burden to bear.
As a child, Zahira had dreamed of escaping him, of finding some way to rid their lives of his presence. But she had never imagined that it would be she who would end his reign of terror.
One fateful evening, as the sun dipped below the horizon and cast long shadows over the empty streets, Zahira's father stumbled home in a drunken stupor. The house was silent, her siblings frolicking outside, and her mother absent at the market. Zahira watched his unsteady footsteps with a cold, calculating gaze, her heart pounding with a mixture of dread and determination.
As he wandered through the dimly lit corridors, his slurred words echoing off the walls, Zahira felt the flames of rage lick at her insides, igniting the dormant embers of her inner demons. She knew in that moment that she could no longer endure the torment he inflicted upon her fragile spirit. It was time to sever the ties that bound her to him, even if it meant crossing a line from which there was no return.
When her father finally stumbled into her room, his words a jumble of incomprehensible murmurs, Zahira knew that her moment had come. With a steely resolve, she watched as he staggered back to his own chamber, his body swaying like a reed in the wind. In the stillness that followed, Zahira had watched him for what felt like hours, her mind racing with thoughts she could barely comprehend. The hatred she felt for him was a living thing, twisting in her chest, urging her to act. And then, without thinking, she did
Hours passed like fleeting shadows, the night swallowing the world in an abyss of darkness. When her mother finally returned, her footsteps heavy with the weight of the day's burdens, she found her husband lying still and silent in their bed.
A sudden hush descended upon the household, a veil of mourning shrouding the once-familiar spaces in an eerie stillness.
The doctors said it was a heart attack. A sudden, tragic loss, they called it. Zahira and her sisters were free, or so it seemed. But Zahira knew the truth, and that truth festered inside her, warping her mind in ways she could not control.
#NircleStories
