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Printed from https://www.writing.com/main/view_item/item_id/1070196-Last-page-of-a-forbidden-diary
Rated: 18+ · Other · Emotional · #1070196
The last page of a sixteen year old's diary
The silent night yelled at me that I killed him brutally. After reading this you can be a better judge. So read on……

Tears flowed down my pink cheeks in torrents.

“Should it be an accident or should it seem like a suicide?”

I wiped my tears, as the time for his arrival is round the corner. I turned back, just in time, to grasp the doubt on the man’s face that I dreaded the most.

“Crying again to fit into your creative character’s tragedies? Huh.”

He never liked my writings and nevertheless, my peculiar tendency to enact the roles of my characters before they form a part of my writings.

“How is your day” I asked.

“My darling, I remember that today is your birthday. I left early this morning to attend a meeting with my Japanese counterparts.”

The urge to rip his heart out deafened me from his lame excuses.

“Oh! Is it so? You have not yet told me how your day was.”

That particular damned sarcastic smile he flashed hit me straight as a slap. It is no more a fancy in which I waddled all through my precious, young age.

“Our Japanese counterparts say that production has to be stopped due to labor outrages. The estimated cost is five crores. The only solution….”

I could not hear any of his lies anymore and stared out to see my neighbors playing with their son.

“Baby, are you listening to me? Ok. Any plans for tonight?” he asked.

“No”

“Plan it quickly so that we won’t lose any more precious time.” He rushed for a shower.

Huh! Time! Our greatest enemy.

He is a businessman and spends most of his time away from me on account of his business and sometimes for a frivolous and passionate adventure. I am a writer and stay hooked to my books. Time hardly lets us meet but I love him and love him lots.

While still in the shower, he yelled for a towel. I could not make out that it was just an other trick of his to pull me into the shower. He was standing there stark nude. May be this was how Adam looked. But I was no Eve.

Today I am in no mood to cope with what he was doing to me and my body for the past eight years. The thought of bearing his offspring hit me like a thunderbolt. Giving birth to his child is a sin. God! Help me.

“Not today. Please”

These are precisely the words he hated. He pushed me, impulsively, with the same force that he pulled me with. I fell on all my fours in the tub and froth spilled all over as if the clouds came down to my bathroom to present themselves to me on my day.

Glimpses of childhood danced their way into my doomed world. Mama was a cute lady and papa cared a lot for her. I came into this world and they bestowed all their love on me. Mama died when I was eight. Tuberculosis was what the doctor in a turtle-necked shirt and big spectacles attributed her death to. Papa cried and drank when he was not crying. After a month, he stopped crying.

He stopped coming home. One day, he luckily came home. I was happy he came home. But there was a lady along with him. She was not mama. That night, I woke up to restless moaning. I got frightened and ran into papa’s room with the moaning increasing. I threw myself on his bed, but landed on a soft velvet lump of flesh. It was the flesh of the lady who pap brought home. The lady left in a fit of anger. Papa growled at me. He dragged me to his bed and threw himself all over me. I could not comprehend what he was doing to me, except for the excruciating pain. I never cried out of pain for the sheer fear of losing pap. I love him!!!!!!

Now I am sixteen and I quite well know what papa is doing to me. I love him. But I can not let him do all that he is doing to me. I pleaded with him to leave me, not once but, many times. I am a prisoner in my own house. I am a recluse. I am desperate.

I love you Papa. But I can not live with you. I can not carry this sin. Pardon me.

I came out of the bathroom. He was getting dressed up.

“Dinner is ready”

We had dinner and then I led him to the twentieth floor. We drank vodka. One shot after the other, he drank twelve shots of vodka. I sat on the parapet and slowly removed my blouse. Papa staggered onto the wall , not at all in his senses. The next moment splat he went down and lost his breath in the journey downward.

Papa I love you. I can not live without you. Take me along with you.

I put my pen down. These are the last words of the forbidden pages of my diary. The silent night yelled at me that I killed him brutally. Bye!


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