Smashed The Bloom

Updated on January 25, 2018
Maryam Rehman profile image

Maryam observes, feels, thinks and then uses a pen. She puts her heart out on the page. She feels herself in the place of her characters.

Oh how beautiful she was. Opening her eyes in a room in a hospital; she smiled as she saw the first ever face; her mother. She looked at her mother as if she saw a miracle. She had the same warm feeling of her mother’s hands as she felt when she was in her womb. She was finally into the world and seeing the person, she always wanted to meet who cared for her and carried her for nine months.

Her mother and father held her in their hands and there were tears in their eyes; tears of happiness. They had been waiting for the little fellow to come out. And finally, it was the day. Oh how happy they were. Seeing those beautiful eyes, the small lips, the little hands and feet; ‘She is so beautiful,’ her mother said. ‘Just like you,’ her father said hugging both of them. ‘Oh, look she has your nose,’ surprisingly happy, her mother told her father excitedly. The warm feeling of happiness; the couple had the most beautiful gift of the universe in their hands; a beautiful smiling daughter.

‘Come here, come to mama,’ her mother guiding her when she had just started to walk. The happiness of seeing her daughter take a few steps on her own brought tears in her eyes. At the same instant, her husband called. She told him she had a surprise for him and asked him to be back soon from work.

And there was the large grin and the pounding heart and the blush on their faces when they both saw their daughter walk a few steps towards them and fell in their hands. And the joys of hearing ‘mama’ and ‘papa’ from the little mouth in a sweet voice were utter happiness; simply indescribable.

Her parents taught her new words and she joined those words in such a funny manner. Oh how hard they laughed when she spoke a word in a funnily wrong way. She drew beautiful lines and circles and zigzag zigzag zigzag went the crayons, introducing shapes which are still unknown to the world. Hahaha! And then it was time for her to go to school. Her mother dropped her to the Nursery school. She cried on her very first days and her mother stayed with her in the school for the whole days. She helped her in homework and in tests and groomed her. She drew things and showed them to her teacher. ‘Oh how beautiful, you will be an artist one day,’ her teacher appreciated her. She loved studying and thought of becoming an artist one day.

She had grown up into a very cute little girl. She was studying hard in her life to reach the aim in her life_the aim of becoming an artist. And every time she drew, sketched or painted, her mother and father appreciated her and framed her work. There were so many walls in her house and every wall covered with her paintings. Then there was an exhibition in the college. Paintings were collected from the students and displayed and then there was going to be announcement of the winner. Oh how nervous she was. ‘Mom, what if I lost in the competition,’ she asked her mother a night before the art exhibition. ‘You won’t. I believe in you. Hope for the best, honey,’ her mother smiled at her precious daughter.

And she won. She was very happy. Her parents were very happy. They celebrated. Mmm…yummy; her favorite chocolate cake. She was moving forward. Getting younger and more beautiful; she submitted forms for the degree in arts. Time was young, healthy and beautiful for her. She was very happy. And her parents were too. They were getting old; white hair and some lines under the eyes. Her father had earned his whole life for he wanted to see his daughter flourish into a young, beautiful, educated and independent woman. Her mother helped her in every way of her life and groomed her to face the world. And she was confidently moving forward in her life. She had plans and she had artistic soul; so creative that she could be a great artist in her very own future.

Years passed by. So much hard work and so many nights unslept; she was finally having her final semester exams. Oh there was so much work to do. But it was the last day of exam tomorrow. Oh she jumped with happiness; the exams were finished and they went so well. She and her friends decided to go out to celebrate. They ate at a restaurant and then went into a park. Took some selfies and pictures of each other. They teased each other and laughed and laughed and laughed so hard that their jaws hurt. But it was getting late. They all decided they should go home before it was too late. They all took a taxi.

All dropped at their houses except for her. The taxi driver gawked her from the back view mirror. She set herself in the back seat and asked him to drive quickly. He drove and drove. And stopped somewhere in the middle of nowhere. She shouted at the driver for taking her in the wrong place. He didn’t say anything. And opened the backseat door, pulled her out, grabbed her from her hair and slapped her. She cried and shouted but there was no one around in the empty streets. Only the chirping of the insects, the howling of the night animals and the screams of the girl away from home. The taxi driver punched her face and hit hard on her head. She fell unconscious.

Her eyes hurt as she opened her eyes under the lighted sky. It was the very other morning of the incident. She tried to get up but… her back hurt; her hands were bleeding, her hair were a mess, her clothes were torn apart, her legs had blood spots on them. She remembered what happened. She screamed; screamed due to the pain; screamed due to the bad feeling; screamed due to a bad touch; screamed because she was raped. She sat there with torn clothes and cried out loud. She shouted and screamed and shouted and screamed. Only if she could reverse time; only if she wasn’t in that taxi; only if she weren’t so late. She had so much things circling in her floating brain. She was getting dizzy and she fell unconscious again.

The next time she opened her eyes, she was on a hospital bed. She wished she wouldn’t have opened her eyes again. The doctors asked her of her parents and called them to the hospital. They came and rushed towards their daughter. They had been so much worried about her; they had submitted a complaint in the police as well; they saw their daughter and they both cried. Her mother hugged her. She didn’t react, she didn’t even look at her mother, and she only wished to be dead. The doctor took her father out of the room and told him about what happened to his daughter. The blooming flower had been plucked and smashed. There was a rush of pain, anger, anxiety in his spine but all he could do at that time was hold his daughter together. They took their daughter home.

She didn’t eat, speak, and come out of her room for days. Her mother and father stayed with her in her room for days. All those days, she was silent. Silently, suffering the burning feeling, the terrible pain, and the physical abuse. Her parents talked to her, tried to make her eat and talk but all she did was blink. They were suffering pain in their own place. Her father had been complaining in the police. He didn’t want to be silent, he wanted justice for his daughter. Her parents took turns staying with her; they never wanted to leave her alone. And one day when her father was out and her mother went for bringing something to eat for her; she hanged herself with the ceiling fan. There wasn’t a single thought on her mind, wasn’t a single regret in her eyes. She hung to the ceiling fan; dead.

What justice would be needed then? After their daughter died. They had no tears in their eyes. And when tears don’t shed from eyes; they fall on the heart; and it really hurts. They sat in the lawn after burying their daughter in the graveyard. Everything was silent; they were silent, the dry lips, and the dry eyes. Nothing moved except the air. The old couple lost in thoughts of their dead daughter. The father had a burden of tears on his chest. He couldn’t control and started crying. He cried and cried so hard that he couldn’t breathe. The mother was still silent and she didn’t move a bit. He wiped her tears and hugged her wife which was sitting like a statue. He took her inside the house. The house walls; covered with so many paintings, paintings of their daughter; the mother looked at them and controlled her sighs; the sighs that would lead her tears out. But how could she control; she lead out a scream and fell unconscious. But that was their life now. They had to live the rest of life without their daughter. The daughter who they kept among the soft perfumed flowers. But they were scarred for life.

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    • Maryam Rehman profile imageAUTHOR

      Maryam Rehman 

      4 months ago from Pakistan

      Thank you so much.

      and yes, i do try to write on social awareness,

      i believe, somehow, someday might my words awaken someone anywhere, anytime :)

    • MizBejabbers profile image

      Doris James-MizBejabbers 

      4 months ago

      You write very well. This story is beautiful and awful and scary. Thank you for writing about a subject that occurs all too often.

    • Maryam Rehman profile imageAUTHOR

      Maryam Rehman 

      5 months ago from Pakistan

      Thank you Nikki :)

    • nikkikhan10 profile image

      Nikki Khan 

      5 months ago from London

      Very painful for parents and for victim as well,,not knowing why she or he is getting this pain :(

      Great work my friend,, keep it up.

    • Maryam Rehman profile imageAUTHOR

      Maryam Rehman 

      5 months ago from Pakistan

      thank you

    • profile image

      Taimoor268 

      5 months ago

      Very heart touching u described everything very nicely i really likes it

    • Maryam Rehman profile imageAUTHOR

      Maryam Rehman 

      5 months ago from Pakistan

      Thank you so much.... And yes indeed there are certain things in life that are awful and If I can, I would love to aware people about them.

    • DREAM ON profile image

      DREAM ON 

      5 months ago

      You write so vivid and touching. Dealing with beautiful life and the sad truth that there are things in life that are awful. In writing when you stir the senses you awaken the mind to new and creative thoughts.

    • Maryam Rehman profile imageAUTHOR

      Maryam Rehman 

      5 months ago from Pakistan

      thank you, Frank

    • Frank Atanacio profile image

      Frank Atanacio 

      5 months ago from Shelton

      wow very climatic--dramatic and tugs at the soul awesome my friend

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