Kriti's POV:
~~~~Dream Sequence~~~~~
"Daddy, please no!" I cried as I covered my mother's body with my 9-year-old petite figure. I felt a sharp pain hit on my back as his leather belt slapped my skin.
"NO!" My mother screamed as she shielded my body with hers. My father who realized that I had come in between, stopped for a moment. He was angry. It wasn't long before I felt his harsh hands grab onto me and yanking me out of my mother's grip. "KRITI!"
"Agar dubra beech mei aaye toh mei tujhe chorunga nahi!" He screamed into my face before throwing me away to the side. I cried as I hit the floor hard. I looked over to my father who had started to hit my mother again.
"Daddy, please leave mummy alone!" I cried as I ran in between them again. This time when I was yanked out of her grip again, my father didn't stop to stable me, instead he easily and quite forcibly threw me into a table nearby. I ended up hitting my head.
"KRITIKA!" Those were the last words I heard before I blacked out.
~~~~~~ Dream Sequence End~~~~~~~
"MOM!" I screamed as I suddenly woke up from my nightmare. I rapidly looked around myself for my mother but soon stopped and realized that it was a dream. A nightmare.
My eyes pooled with tears as I remembered the dream. It was a memory from my past. A very cruel memory. I looked at the clock beside my bed.
3:02am
Same time as before. That's the 4th time this week I have woken up covered in cold sweat. I knew that my memories would always come back to haunt me but every time I see them; I feel a part of my heart break away. Every moment that happens in those nightmares is as bad as the original memory. What's worse is that there is no 'Turn OFF' button to all this. I have to endure it every single day of my life.
Realizing that I won't be able to fall back to sleep again, at least not after that horrible visit down the memory lane, I spent the next few hours roaming around my large room, doing unusual chores here and there while carefully avoiding the large red covered basket that had arrived a day ago. It contained something very special but yet something so depressing that I just didn't want to look at.
Waking up and being awake for a long time during the night has become a usual habit for me. It's been years since I have gotten a good night sleep that isn't full of nightmares. I would always wake up either screaming or drenched in cold sweat. Most of the time I avoided sleeping but sometimes when I really needed to close my eyes, I have no choice but to do it. My dark circles and tiredness had become a second skin to me.
I was just picking up my dirty clothes from the floor is when I noticed my mother's photo frame. It had somehow fallen down from a stack of books I had placed on earlier. Probably by the roaring wind outside, coming from the large window beside the desk. I felt my eyes prick as I remembered her smile, her caring and loving nature. I slowly picked up the frame and ran my fingers over it, remembering every moment with her.
The way she used to love me.
The way she used to protect me from my father's wrath.
And most of all, the lullaby she always sang for me whenever I wanted to sleep. I still remember the song. It was the only thing that gave me a peaceful sleep. (The song is up in the media section ^^^^^)
By the time I was done crying my heart out, it was nearly seven and time for everyone to wake up. So without any further ado, I wiped my tears and got ready in a long beautiful light pink dress.
I quickly put some makeup on to cover my dark circles before leaving the room. Usually, I prefer to stay simple, but sometimes when I couldn't avoid those dark bags under my eyes, I had to use make up to cover it. At least, I won't look like a dragged hag as my big brother, Prem, had pointed out the other week. Honestly, it hurts to hear these words from my own family. But Like I said, I'm a burden to them. Nothing more than a rag.
As I left my room, I looked at all the endless doors in the corridor. The house itself resembled something like a mansion, filled with many rooms and many corridors that even after living in it for all of my life, I would still get lost every often or so.
Descending through the grand stairs, I said my usual greetings to the servants before setting myself at the breakfast table. Breakfast at the Alluwalia's resident has always been a bustling affair. Every member of the family was too busy in themselves that I hardly got any notice, which by the worked out pretty well for me. I was mainly the black sheep of the family. Hated from all four corners. But today their attention was seemed to be focused on me. Wonder why?
"I hope you have tried the wedding dress that Mr. Pandey has sent you earlier yesterday." My half-brother, Kabir said as he took a banana from the fruit bowl. It was clear that the statement was aimed at me. I simply nodded, looking down. Honestly, with his buffed figure, sometimes it scares the hell out of me.
"And make sure tomorrow you are wearing something traditional. It's the henna ceremony. Mr.Pandey has specifically said that he wants to see his to-be-bride in the traditional theme." Prem Bhayia spoke up from the other side of the table. I wrinkled my nose at my soon-to-be-husband's name. There is no denying that the guy was a perv.
"Yes, bhayia." I nodded again.
"Good." My father announced. "We are spending huge amount of money on this wedding. Don't do anything stupid." He warned me with a pointed figure. I looked away from his stern look. The only thing they care about is money. Not me.
"Kriti." I heard my sister-in-law, Poonam, call my name as I was about to head off to my room. I had lost my appetite after eating one apple. "Get ready. We are going for your wedding shopping. I need to get you a dress for every ritual." She said lightly, placing an assuring hand on my shoulder. I smiled and nodded. Out of my whole family, my sister-in-law was the only one who cared enough about me to realize that the chosen groom is not fit for me. How could he be? He's nearly my dad's age. A man so old that he could easily pass as my father. What's worse that I'm the bait. It's like my father is selling me off to acquire more money into his endless amount of wealth. After all, I was always a burden on him.
"I will, Bhabhi." I replied.
"You better." My step-mother, Meera Alluwalia hissed, as she zoomed past by. "And wear something appropriate." I looked at my light pink dress in confusion. It was more like a jump suit but it wasn't that bad. Was it? Maybe it didn't match the family's standards?
"Don't worry, Kriti. You look perfect." Poonam said before walking off to attend to her young son, Roshan.
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~
After changing into heaps of outfits, I finally decided to wear a mini pink crop top and a black velvet skirt that went below my knees. It wasn't that fancy, but it was simple enough for me to freely move around, and also the fact that it easily covered the few scars I have on my back.
As I sat in the family car, I instinctively reached for my silver necklace in my neck. I squeezed it and ran it through my fingers to calm my nerves down as the car started to move. It was a small love-heart shaped opal. The very shiny, soft surface of it helps me reduce stress and calm my nerves. I don't know why I still have it on me. Especially after the person who gave this to me was the one who left me heartbroken for seven years.
As we drove through the nearby lakes, I tried to capture all the beautiful scenery of Switzerland. I heard that the old man I'm being married to lives in India. So I would miss this after I leave.
"Kriti." I looked at my sister-in-law. "Ek baat poochu?" I nodded. "Why are you playing along with this marriage?" I closed my eyes at the question. I knew she would ask me that. "He's not a right guy for you, Kriti. Woh tumse umar mei bahut bara hai. Why don't you run away?"
"Bhabhi." I started, as I faced her while the car continued to move past the beautiful sceneries. "I know you care for me. And I care for you a lot as well. But this is something I can't avoid. You know how our family is. Even if I run away from this marriage, papa, chacha, bhayia... they will all come after me. Mujhe dhundte dhundte pata nahi kitne logo ki jaan jayegi. And I don't want that." I said, feeling the buildup of tears in my eyes. I was telling her the half-truth. I can't tell her the real reason behind my 'yes' for this marriage. "Life mei, all I ever got was a broken heart. Anyone that has ever loved me has always left me, either by death or by will. Pehle mumma, phir mere dost aur phir Ary--" I stopped. It's been years since I have let that name roll onto my lips.
"You mean Aryaan?" Poonam bhabhi said, grabbing my attention. I looked back at her. She was giving me the serious look.
"Nahi." I said firmly after a while. He's nothing to me anymore. I heard a sigh from bhabhi as I ignored looking in her eyes.
"Kriti... It's been years. Maybe Aryaa---"
"Bhabhi nahi." I cut her off immediately, shaking my head. "Uska naam bhi mat lena. I hate him and his name. I don't want to hear it."
"But Kriti—"
"No!" I said loudly before turning away from her. I hate that name. Every time I think about it, all I feel is pain. A pain that has now become a large wound on my heart. A pain that torments me every night.
"Tera mera na ...kuch nahi hone vala hai"
I shook my head as a memory of the past flashed infront of me.
"Achcha kiya bata ke...mujhe aasan kam vaise bhi pasand nahi hai."
"No." I muttered to myself as I tried to shake off the words. I quickly plugged in my music before continuing to look at the passing shops. There is no way I'm going down the memory lane again. It's too much for me to handle.