Chandanas

Chandanas
When We First Met (Chandana POV)



- Need to know. So from here until the ending later, will always use the viewpoint mba Chandana :D. Hopefully you like and get used to the same style of storytelling that might be a little different ---


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Have you ever felt so sad and afraid of something? Have you ever felt failed and angry, but there is nothing you can do but to be silent and accepting? Have you ever felt like telling stories and spilling all complaints, but realized that in fact you have no one?


I've been.


But before all that, before all the gripping things began to enter my life, the night once felt very very beautiful and thrilling for me. So does the morning that feels very bright and soothing. The days were once so happy for a little girl who at that time knew nothing but parental affection and a comfortable life. The days were once so light and made me eagerly look forward to new things and exciting what else would happen the next day.


I used to feel that way, a long time ago. As with most other kids who only know that the only thing one can do to pass the day as well as pass the time is to play and have fun.


Isn't it fun when we go out and find friends waiting? Isn't it exciting when we have to run around and hide when mom, dad, or brother, suddenly yells to call our names to come home and have lunch? Isn't it funny to watch some kids cry and fight just because they lost a game of hide and seek?


Such a wonderful and memorable childhood, I still remember it well. It is still one of the happiest things I will always keep neatly in my limited memory.


There are probably too many things that I have kept to myself. There are too many memories that I can only remember and regret without being able to share because there is no one in this world that I can trust. Even myself.


At least that's what I thought after receiving all the suffering and horrible treatment from my father and brother. Maybe it would be more fitting if I called him Edy. The name he brought and introduced in front of everyone after he destroyed my simple life and world.


I can't even calculate correctly how long and how much time I spent going through all that suffering. For me, there is not a single day that is different because everything will be the same. Everything will be just as bad from day to day.


I often thought, if only I had been braver then, would everything have been better for me? If I dared to say all that to the teacher or to the grandfather, would things be different? Am I going to heal and throw away all my fears? Will the disgust every time you look at the mirror decrease or even disappear completely? I don't know. And I don't intend to try. By trying, maybe all the events after that will be completely changed. Destiny will change.


Like a car driving on the highway. Throwing stones at the car can make it change direction, can also make it stay and go in the same direction, or even make it stop and not drive again.


If I did something different back then, maybe now I'm not here. Maybe I'll stay here too. Or maybe I was dead before I even got to this point. That's as complicated as destiny for me. Full of uncertainty and ignorance. I can't guess anything. All I can do is bet. The outcome? No one knows.


To this day I am still quite confused with the concept of destiny itself. But one thing is certain. I believe that destiny exists. Destiny brought me here. It was fate that took my mother's life and sent that terrible Edy to me. And it was fate that sent Kiran, sending the angel into my horrible life.


I'll start from the beginning. From the point where I started to believe in destiny itself.


I was always scared. I'm coward. I followed everything Edy said without ever daring to fight back or seek help. I who had never once faced difficult things, as if I did not have the slightest courage to stop Edy's actions.


I know he is very good at talking and manipulative. He always makes others think he is right with all the arguments and statements that sound convincing. My father and I did not escape this influence. However, the difference is that I have been aware for a long time. I have been aware that Edy is a dog*n since she landed her dirty hands for the first time on my body. While father, he was completely unconscious. He was busy swallowing everything Edy told him. Even though I didn't really know what he was going to do, I realized it wasn't a good thing.


That day, I heard Edy and dad were going to do a big plan. They were about to execute someone or something I didn't understand. But I see this as an opportunity. Whatever it is that Edy and dad are going to do, I have to stop it. I have to talk to dad and tell all of Edy's rottenness right away.


I was looking forward to the golden opportunity, and when I saw that opportunity had arrived, I told my father everything. At first he seemed to believe in me. However, shortly after Edy came and returned to his words, the father trusted the Brengs*k more than me, his own daughter. My father thought I was lying and beat me up. Satisfied to see me sprawled with all the bruises and bruises, they left the house and locked me in from the outside.


I feel pain. Both my physical and my inner being were sliced to realize how cruel and evil the world was. The only parent left was defending Edy, who was clearly the real culprit and destroyer of our family.


I can't stand it if I stay in that condition. Any little girl would not be able to withstand everything I experienced back then. So I tried everything to get out of the house. I walked around the house looking for a little gap and ran away to grandfather's place. The only person who would possibly understand my condition is like this.


It took me a dozen minutes to move from one room to another because the pain was still very much felt. Bruising and bruising accompanied by blood around my face and body made myself in pain every time I moved too much. However, while recalling that that was the only chance to get out of this hell, I did not give up. I tried and kept trying until I finally managed to get out through the air vents in the bathroom with the help of some plastic chairs that had to be stacked up first.


I walked out of the house with tears in my eyes. Issues that I had been dimmed and kept as if broken and out along with all the burdens that were in the chest. It was a relief to be mixed with fear when I realized that I could get out of that hell. That I dare get out of there.


I kept going without really paying attention to the direction. Just cry and follow where the feet are carrying. Along the way, these tears repeatedly dried up. But repeatedly, the flood returned. I stared blankly at the road ssmbari imagining what I had been going through. If you hadn't always been in front of the gate when you came home from school and waited for me with that pitiful face, maybe I would have dared to run away and leave you there. But I realized that I couldn't. What would happen if you were left alone with Edy?


I continued to walk unknowingly until I reached a highway. I still cried when I looked to the right and to the left and then stepped across the street. At first, the sounds of horns sounded by some riders were so loud and disturbing. However, everything seemed to be quiet when suddenly someone pushed my body to fall on the sidewalk.


# (If you forget to see interval 1 part 17 :D)


My heart suddenly thumped with fear. My body trembled when I realized that we had just touched. It feels disgusted and horrified when you realize this. I hurriedly pulled myself up and hugged my knees, which was the gesture I used to do every time I saw Edy come into the room.


I was looking down with all the fear and uneasiness I felt when I heard the boy say, "The grammar is broken."


Whahuh? The goggles? I didn't even really realize what I was wearing and wearing that day.


"Are you okay?" The boy continued while thrusting the broken glasses.


I don't remember very well how and what I was doing back then, maybe crying?


To be sure, the boy offered me a drink or something else. While I continued to resist and hoped he would leave me alone there soon. It's uncomfortable to be around boys.


He put a packet of tissue on my lap and said, "I'm sorry but I was in a hurry. There's a tissue. You wear your tears just like this little wound. Next time be careful if you cross, especially here not many people. Don't cry in the middle of the road. I'm a lunatic."


To be honest, I still feel uncomfortable with the existence of the boy. Even as he stood up and stretched out his hand and said, "Come on, I'll help you stand."


With a slight tremble, I looked up to see the outstretch of his hand. There are some cuts there. It looks like he got those injuries when he fell because he helped me earlier. Right, he helped me. He was willing to throw away the bike and the food parcel just to save me.


With doubt, I accepted his hand. I stood up and glanced at him at a glance as we accidentally met our eyes. He fell silent after seeing my face that was covered in these wounds and bruises. His expression changed, he looked both shocked and pitying.


After a long silence, he asked again, "Are you okay?"


Hearing that makes me feel miserable. All this time, no one really cared about me. Only pity and pity made them ask questions. Just because I had to lose a mother and live with a less sane father made them want to ask. And it all happened because they were sorry. So too with that boy.


"Can you walk? I'll take a bike, will I take you to the hospital? Or am I taking you home? Your wounds must be treated," he said again before I could respond to his previous words.


I shook my head softly as I said, "No."


Before turning around and leaving, our eyes met again. His eyes were so warm and soft. Highlight eyes that are very difficult to understand by a girl with a messy life who is just entering adolescence.


Without waiting for him to answer, I walked away and left him who was still there even after I got to a turn.


Long story short, I reached my grandfather's house and immediately received intensive care from a doctor. I told you everything I've been through all this time. Not with Edy.


I knew I was so stupid for not saying everything back then. I know I'm a fool for preferring silence instead of exposing all the harsh realities. But explaining and telling the horrific wounds is not easy for a victim of abuse or rape. I who at that time did not even get sex education at all felt very traumatized and confused by what I experienced during those years. Just remembering it has been very difficult for me, let alone tell it to others.


In the belief that I had survived and would never again be in contact with Edy, I kept all those secrets, all those horrible disgrace to myself.


I feel safe and comfortable in my grandfather's house. At least until I heard the news that my father had to be thrown in jail for injuring a toddler and had to lose his sight.


I was broken back. Back to the great sadness. All the inner torments affected my psychic condition to grow into an antisocial girl who was not comfortable hanging out with people or being in a crowd.


I spent my Junior High with a lot of reading and being alone in my room with occasional consultations with psychologists. Grandfather thought it was important to me because it did not rule out the possibility that my psychic condition must have been injured after all the tragedies that occurred.


My life is normal, bland and colorless. In fact, upon entering the High School. At that time, my grandfather's house was far enough from the Coconut Shoots that I was allowed to move to a residential complex near the school.


I lived together with a very nice and friendly maid. Every day I go to school by bike because the distance of school and home is quite close.


At first, I got quite a lot of attention from some female friends. However, I do not like crowds and am not comfortable talking to others so I try my best not to accept friendship. In addition, from the beginning of school, I began to be approached by many men who of course made me feel very very uncomfortable.


I started to be selective and closed myself down. The first year went bland and black and white like last. That day, I saw that face again. The face of the boy who once saved me and pushed my body until we were both thrown on the sidewalk.