After the speech that day, many women came up with their traumatizing past. They shared a lot through social medias . But that was not enough This should completely change and we could only hope and fight for it.
I was surprised by the number of women who experienced this by their own family members. What's more disturbing is that they were silenced by their own mothers. We had a long way to change. Starting from our own families.
I grabbed my keys from the table and diary from the drawer. I walked down the stairs and saw mom and dad. After giving them both a kiss on the cheeks I got into my car and drive off.
On my way , I saw a flower shop. I stopped there and went inside the shop.
"Hi ma'am, how can I help you?" A sweet lady asked.
"I need a white Delilah flower." I asked , my eyes already brimming with tears.
She nodded and walked towards the basket with white delilahs. She picked a clean and beautiful one and cut out its extra stem. Then she gently handed it to me.
"That'll be $7.50" she said.
I paid her and walked out the store and into my car.
I drove off to the cemetery. I walked to Delilah's grave and sat there. I sat there for so long and allowed the tears to flow freely. I have been waiting for this moment.
"Delilah, I hope you'll be proud of me. If you were here, I would've given you a big tight beary hug and never let go. I love you sister. You've been served the justice you deserve. May your beautiful soul rest in peace. You'll forever be remembered, Delilah. " I was tearing up pretty badly .I took out the lighter and the diary. I lighted the diary up and let it burn out completely. The diary which held all her pain....let it all burn away... I watched as the paper turned into ashes. Then I took out the flower. I kissed and then placed the white Delilah on her grave .
"You are most strongest person, Delilah." It came out as a whisper. Slowly I walked out of the cemetery and entered the car. Before even a minute has passed I broke into tears... I looked over at the dashboard to see a few white petals . I wiped away my tears and gathered all the courage to live up this life for my sister.....
THE END.....
YOU ARE READING
Diary Of A Victim.
Short Story"And do you want to know what happened to my sister. She was dragged from streets on her way back to home. She was drugged and was forcefully taken to God knows where. Not only she was raped brutally, she was beaten up . Hundreds of bruises and burn...
