A True Indian Cinderella

Misery- Chapter 1

A/N

WARNING: GRAMMATICAL ERRORS ( those who can't stand such errors I don't think you will like it haha)

I ain't no good at grammars but sure will find an editor when I wanna publish this book.

But haha bear with them and enjoy the story!!

Meeya

"Ei Meeya, have you finished washing the dishes? How many times must I remind you? Do you have some brain?" screamed mom furiously as she came out of her room.

I quickly ran into the kitchen and open my mouth and in shock, I saw a pile of dirty, uncleaned dishes on the basin. I immediately went there to start cleaning so as to pretend I have been cleaning them.

"Shit! I have soo many homework and I had to do this" I murmured quietly as my mom stopped in front of me and glared at me. If looks could kill, I would have died there and then.

"YOU stupid idiot, you just started?? How disrespectful?" she yelled as she took something that looked like a long rod and hit me on my hands, legs, head. Tears welled up in my eyes but I had to control them not showing my weakness.

"YOU YOU YOU! YOU HAVE SOO MUCH OF ARROGANCE" she spits as I was standing there like a tree, rooted to the ground with no emotions. She dropped the thing she was holding and slapped me right on my face. I dropped to the ground and felt the floor vibrating as she stomps her way out. I sat there on the floor made of marble, cold and uncomfortable. Tears couldn't be controlled so I let them out. I saw my bruises and touched them with my shivering fingers.

They felt not new to me, I had used to it but the pain in my heart just renews every single time. I got back up and started washing the dishes as I wiped my tears which didn't want to stop. " Why me? What had I done? Shouldn't I wish to have a happy family? WHY THIS MISERY GOD? WHEN ARE YOU GOING TO HELP ME? " Thoughts ran through my mind as I wiped my tears with my soaked fingers. "Meeya I am gonna miss you! I want to stay with you forever pakki " that familiar voice that I missed went through my mind. It's the voice of Farim.

He was the only soul that showed me, love. The only soul that made me laugh and basically happy. But that was 4 years ago when I was 7. We met at my Uncle's wedding in INDIA. He was from Bahrain and I was from Singapore. He is 5 years older than me but when I met him, he showed me, immense love. A kind of love that I didn't get from my family.

I remembered those times where I used to run around him and he used to catch me and gave a kiss on my cheeks.

Those times that we used to play pillow fight, hitting each other with pillows until all the feathers inside of pillow came out. Those times when I would try to find him in the midst of many relatives who had come for the wedding.

Although he was 12 then, we were like thick friends within that 10 days of my Uncle's wedding. Indian Muslim weddings takes more than a day which gave me the opportunity to be with Farim. He used to call me Pakki, a very rude nickname but I liked it. Those words were his last words to me before I flew off to Singapore as the wedding had finished.

Now I am 11 and he should be 16, and I wonder how he looks like. Does he even think about me, probably not I am nothing? Just a dumb ugly 11-year-old kid who has a miserable family. I miss him so much that everytime I had a hard time, his words kept appearing. I am lost in the thoughts of him as I finished washing the dishes.

HI, EVERYONE !!

This is my first ever story. If you liked it please comment, like and also vote.

Many parts happened in my life although some of it exaggerated.

Enjoy reading them!