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CICATRIZE

Meaning - To find healing by the process of forming scars



The pressure cooker lets off steam which had been building up for a long time kept on a stove. The sweltering heat of the summer has arrived yet I feel cold. I am chopping onion to make his favorite dish. My hands tremble and shiver. I have tears in my eyes. I never knew that cutting onions can be such a depressing task. My tears are uncontrollable. The dread of his mere presence does not seem to leave me alone. I try to calm down. I close my eyes and take in deep breaths. Suddenly a huge hand covers my mouth. Another hand takes hold of my neck. I can't breathe. The choking has left me out of any air to breath and I am desperately fending off his hands. I feel him hitting me from behind. He forces himself into me. Everything is in vain. He will exploit and kill me. I am losing consciousness. The light slowly disappears. The body is giving way. I see the whole world fall over me.


I wake up.


I am drenched in sweat collapsed on my bed and gasping for air. I got hold of the bottle nearby to gulp water. It helped a little. The shivering did not stop. My hands cannot stop trembling. My lips quiver and I roll my hands over the neck to make sure his hands are not there. Even though he is not here, I still feel the ominous presence of his hands around my neck intent to take my life. These thoughts do not seem to go away. It has been almost a month. I call the jail warden to make sure he has not escaped. It is the 8th time in a month I have called him. He assures me he has not escaped the jail. I sigh in relief on hearing that he is in jail. Today is the last day in the city. I am leaving behind my past to move on. I can never understand what did I do wrong. What made him hate me so much. I thought he will love me and treat me like a woman gets treated by a man who loves deeply but what I got in return were lies, infidelity, violence, and constant humiliation of my body. I was trapped. I always thought of being in love like nothing in the world. The wish was granted in an extremely twisted manner. Instead of flowers, I only received scars. Instead of happiness, I only received scars. Instead of love, I only received scars.


The wounds have turned into scars. The body is fortunate to heal itself but my soul is an unfortunate victim of a mortal wound. It will never heal. I will carry them to my grave. These scars are the manifestations of the wound deep inside me which refuse to heal. I have nothing else but these scars left.


I have to show courage. I have to set an example. I am not my scars. I am more than my scars. They may remind me of a horrible past but they will not dictate the beautiful future awaiting me. I will be the lioness every woman will be proud of. My roar will break the cacophony of this wicked society. They cannot bound me. I will break the shackles of their wretched captivity. I will rise.

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