Chaos in the Canvas √

00 | prologue

در نومیدی بسی امید است
پایان شب سیه سپید است
There is much hope in hopelessness;
for at the end of the dark night, there is light.

The cold and dusty winds swirled around the city with tremor, the moon held back the cry of pain with difficulty and the sky howled as all of them peered down at the disaster that had yet to destroy many homes, yet to break many hearts, yet to unleash many storms.

For after all, it was a woman whose dreams were shattered by yet another barbarian disguised as a man. It was a woman whose dignity was snatched by the man she thought was her protector. It was a woman whose soul was ruthlessly battered by the man who threw her in a storm, unsafe and unguarded.

Sobs echoed around the lawn, the woman knelt on the lush, green grass, defeated and battered. Tears ran down her flushed and burning face without measure, just like her heart where agony knew no boundary. Her eyes closed, her figure a living mess, her hair a chaos and her eyes a graveyard.

Standing before her were a few people, people the world referred to as her family. Her father, her mother, her two brothers. Her guarantee for protection in this world, her anchor to lean on, her saviour from the world; her family.

But the stunned faces and frozen limbs of all of them added to the agony of the young woman, her mind too numb to register any thought but her heart beating mercilessly in her chest, its pain increasing with each passing second.

All four of them had diversity in their expressions except one that was common in all; pain. Pain was as evident as the truth that has been revealed to them-heartbreaking and unbelievable. All of their eyes masked sheer agony as they looked down upon the only daughter of the family. Some eyes shed tears, some were now a stone and yet there were some that hid blood behind the iris.

The mother, after a moment, moved towards her daughter, her gait that of the fallen queen, and fell beside her, covering her torned sleeves with her own large shawl as she pulled her only, beloved daughter close to herself. Hiding in the arms of her mother, the young lady cried, tears staining the ashen face.

"My child! My child!" Her mother said in the smallest of voices, the most painful of all.

"I will not leave him! He dare touch my sister, I will kill that bastard with my bare hands!" The elder brother shouted suddenly with anger; sheer, fierce, raging anger, a type that makes lions retreat.

The father didn't say anything to stop the lava that was bursting inside the heart of his son for his own eyes had refused to move under the heavy weight of the truth that had fallen on all of them. A heaviness seemed to have descend upon them and all of them were silent under the weight of it, only the cries of the lady and curses of the elder brother echoing around the lawn.

"My daughter!" The mother shed uncountable tears as she tightly held her daughter to herself, her own hiccups fusing with the ones that wrecked her daughter's body.

"Save me...please...Mak...Force...Amm...Allah!" The silent sobs and heartbreaking pleas of the daughter reverberated around and the father fell down on his knees like a shot bird, his face stunned and eyes glassy.

"I will not leave that man. I will not let him get away with this! The woman of his own house!" The elder son shouted as he saw his father's fall before turning on his heels and marching towards the garage, his body emitting fire or was it a lava of helplessness?

"Bhai! Bhai! Stop!" The younger one shouted but the cries were met only with more curses from the elder son of the family, his voice making the birds stop their melodious singing and peer down at the man who was determined to shed blood.