Physical Abuse - A Short Story
I absolutely hate physical abuse. I hate physical abuse of any kind. Whether it is the husband who raises his hands on his wife, or where the father hits his children. Whether it is the mother who goes crazy and beats the children, or where even an elder sister hits her younger sister or brother. It is a horrific and gruesome act. Especially when it gets extreme. No one should go through physical abuse. It is wrong and unjust. It is inexcusable and there is no reason on the planet which can justify it. I have written a short story to illustrate my deep attachment to the subject. It is more of an account than a story, of a person who used to hit his daughter, but then regretted it in the end. Like everyone keeps saying, you don’t know what you had, until you lose it.
For years I had done it without even a doubt in my mind. I had done it without remorse or stopping to think for even a second about what the consequences will be. I did not think about how much pain I was causing the people that I loved. I drove a wedge between them and myself. I wish there was a time machine I could use to go back in time and make everything right again. Now that she was gone from my life I have started realising about my mistakes. I have started to realise the fact that I miss her a lot. I miss my daughter.
I still remember the day she was born, so small and so fragile. She was the most beautiful thing I had seen in my whole life. I was scared of holding her when the nurse gave her to me all wrapped up in a mini blanket. She was so tiny. I saw her eyes, and her smile. I fell in love with her, from the moment I first saw her and held her. She was my daughter! I prided in that fact and announced her birth to the whole world.
Then what happened? Why did I have to change? I wish everything was like the moment I saw her. Happy, peaceful and loving. We all were so happy. Were. Now I am left to live the rest of my days in misery and loneliness. If only I had not done what I had done in the past.
I had beaten up my daughter. My own flesh and blood. What kind of a sick perverted ******* was I? Who would beat their own daughter. I had done horrible things to her including belting her while at a tender age. I had continued this abuse. I wish someone was there to stop me. I could not control my anger. I was fine with my wife and my other offspring. Why only her? Now that I look back at what I had done at that point of time, I realise I was highly unfair. I beat her and got angry at her only. She was always the good daughter and she did not deserve this.
I remember I used to beat her when it was not even her fault. I used to beat her whenever I used to get angry at her siblings. I took out other peoples anger on her. It drove her away from me. We were always fighting and arguing. My house and family’s environment was ruined because of my behaviour. There was so much negativity and hatred in the air.
It was no surprise that I said yes to her request. Her request of moving away. I could not tell her to not go away. On what basis or grounds would I have said that? That you are my daughter and I love you and please do not leave the house? After all that she had been through because of me, I did not think I had any right to stop her anymore.
She went away and all the happiness was taken away from me and this family. My wife blamed me, my kids missed their elder sister and people asked us about her whereabouts. They asked us when she will be back and I had no answer for them.
It has been 2 years since she left us. She keeps in touch once in a while. Mostly talks to my wife. She does not even want to hear my name anymore. My daughter I really miss you. I want to take it all back. I want you to come back and let us be a family once again. How could I be so cruel. I am sorry my child.