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Diaries: Chapter one
Since I was an embryo, I heard these struggles between my parents inside my mother’s uterus, these usual weeping of my mother when she receives her daily dose of heartbreaking, these mother’s plans of leaving the home and escape to nowhere, and these groans when my father whip her with his harsh bat, or when my elder brother kick her out of his room to have this fallacious privacy, and I felt the tears going on her belly, the fake pets to congratulate her “Congrats on your new baby! God bless her,” the earthquakes that threatened my existence caused my mother’s failed trials to kill me, as she hated life and thought that I may be her successor – thought that I might be this slave for my husband and sons and lose my feeling as a human being, or I might be this self-loathing female who thinks of killing herself more than thinking of eating – and this disturbance when she was running from my father’s bat.
Yet, this is not an acceptable justification to pass perish to her daughter, me, and make my life gloomy without any reason. I know how harsh her life was, but I don’t know why my life must be harsh, too. I felt like I am replicating the same life– not exactly: she had put some modifications to increase the drama, make the torture more traumatic, and make it more emotional. The more tears, the more empathy. What an emotional story! I don’t even know if it was her mistake, their mistakes, or my own mistake, and I don’t know why I fought to survive this life, and why I didn’t hang myself with that umbilical cord… why I didn’t use the reason for my life against me to end my life. Ummm, I mistakenly, unfortunately, and unluckily thought that life in freedom without this Endometrial surrounding me and this darkness prevailing would make me experience the real freedom with all its benign meanings. Hmmm, but I didn’t realize that I am being promoted to another stage of captivity.
This was for the before-birth stage, the stage in which I was only hearing about catastrophes and feeling them. Now, let’s dig deeper into my after-birth stage, the stage of experiencing catastrophes by seeing, listening, touching, feeling, and smelling…
Unlike all my siblings who were born in the countryside by this poor midwife, I was born in this modern, civilized Dubai. I was the second of an older brother and a younger sister. Life seemed to be usual, as anything in my life… seems usual from the outside, yet it’s burning from the deep insides, and no one suffers from ashes but me, the matter which is unmercifully incinerating in peace. And my place of birth, something I haven’t chosen, stimulated the hate and envy from my siblings, looking at me as this arrogant girl who was born in a different place from them and trying to prove, meaninglessly, that they are better than me. Honestly, I didn’t see it as an advantage, but they saw it as a disadvantage for them, and they tried, with all possible means of defeating, to defeat me. Ohh, I am not trying to be a drama queen, but I am only writing what I feel and think regardless of anything else.
Not only that, but also my mom had given me more care than my elder brother – actually, I didn’t have the MORE CARE, but it was the normal care that a newborn baby should be given. I don’t remember anything, but my grandma always told me what really happened, and she had taught me that I am too certain about my decision to hate my brother Jonah.
Two years for a child means to be loved and to receive proper care, but for me, it means two trials to murder me. My elder brother wanted to be the center of the home’s attention, alone. (What an attention-whore!) Thus, he hated my existence, and he wanted with his innocent mind to finish me. A young kid, who should only think about cartoons, fictional characters, talking to fairies, and fear this fictional character that mother’s use to make their kids finish their plates, thought of killing his younger sister and has been taught the meaning of hatred…
The first trial occurred when I was one year old. My brother had persuaded my mom that he wants me beside him while studying. Babies are angels, and I love my sister, He told my mom with his soft tune, and after a lot of talking, smirks, and warnings to take care of me (My mom doesn’t want to see me be thrown from the window again.), he finally made it and took me to the living room where he was studying. Once we reached the crime’s last scene, he scanned the house. Grandma is sleeping on the sofa in front of us; my mother is preparing launch; my father is working on his study; and the television is opened on this old, boring series, indicating that everything is okay, and my grandma is there to bear witness and manage any unexpected action. Well, circumstances are on my brother’s side to commit this hellish crime and end my life, thinking that he could gain attention by killing his sister. He looked at me with his glittering eyes, giving me a desperate look, and then all of sudden pushed his pen inside my mouth, choking me to death and breaking this warning of “Don’t put the pencil in your mouth” that’s written on his killing tool. I started to yell and suffocate, but he seemed determined with this heinous trial, and he was increasing the force as if he were coercing me to eat this pen. The scene was chilly, a kid killing his sister. And I am certain that you are clever enough to realize that I wasn’t killed. My grandma was shocked by my tiny screams. She rushed to me and saved me, as always, from him, repeating this boring scene of scolding and threatening him whenever he makes mistakes. The air returned to my small lungs, altering this blue color of my skin to my freckled white color, and I had another chance to survive… another chance to witness devastations.
I presume that life is a synonym of surviving and fighting.
Second – that awful second- is a failed trial that destroyed all the relations between me and my brother. I was two years old, and I could walk, and I could say my first words “Mama,” and I was able to recognize pain. My mom was pregnant with my best and only friend in my life, my younger sister Anna. (Don’t worry. She has her own chapter.) This seemed like another threat… another superstar in the arena is coming, thus some lights should be directed to him, and “this-person-who-is-called-my-brother” would lose some of his lights. My mom was always telling him that babies have special powers, and only God can control them while they are inside their mothers’ wombs. So, he didn’t think of killing my sister; instead, he thought, and he always thinks, of killing – sometimes destroying – me.
The plan was too difficult this time, as he had squandered a valuable trial, and he doesn’t want to lose this one. I was playing with my toys in the living room, and around me was my grandma who was looking after me. This-person-who-is-called-my-brother were watching us, waiting until grandma’s attention is lost, thereby he can perform this kill. He was squatting, hiding behind the wall, and stretching his left hand, shaking it and showing a sparkling thing, something that grabbed all my attention. It was awesome, and as any kid, I was astounded and wanted to have a better look at it. Awesome trick, young boy!
Once he had noticed that I am approaching, he ran to the bathroom, repeated the same trick, waiting for me, and he was really clever to make me follow him to the bathroom. When I entered, I could hear the sound of water that’s filling the deep bath and saw it going out, drowning the white floor, and I noticed the sparkling thing floating on the water. I have never gone to the bathroom alone, thus I felt that it’s a gigantic place full of towels, house-cleaning tools, and water, and it sounded incredulous not to find him around, but I didn’t care. I really need to take this thing! As I was approaching, I felt the bright rays of the object getting inside my retina increasing the size of my eyes and making feel the chanting happiness. I felt like I am achieving the best dream in my childhood, and finally, I touched it, and I wish I hadn’t. Suddenly, this-person-who-is-called-my-brother ran towards me and held me from my legs. I really was astonished, thinking that he was trying to help me. He seemed to be taller than me, and he could easily carry me up with his strong muscles to reach this gift. My lovely brother! But all these impossible dreams vanished when I felt him throwing me into the bath, making me drown in the chilly water. I looked at his full-of-antagonism eyes, and I wanted to tell him that I trusted him, but I couldn’t because I haven’t yet learned to say ‘betrayal’ or ‘help,’ yet I have learned the feeling of seeking help and detesting betrayal. He immediately ran out of the bathroom, slammed the door behind him, and closed the lights, making me suffer in darkness, as I was trying with every bit of strength to overcome water to survive, and he stood in front of the bathroom’s door, acting as a guard for the invited grim reaper, waiting until hearing silence, indicating that his mission is delightfully accomplished.
Nevertheless, my SOS’s sent a hidden signal to my mother’s heart – My mother was always hearing my inner cries, thoughts, and the silent shouts of pain. She threw the spoon on the pan, leaving the most precious thing she used to do in her life, cooking, and ran around the apartment, calling my name until she stumbled into Jonah, and she asked him with a scared tone, “Jonah, where is Elizabeth? Did you see her.”
“Umm, I don’t know, mom. She may be playing with her toys or doing her girly things.” He said in a vexatious tune, avoiding looking at my mother’s eyes, as she may know what’s really happening.
“Why are standing in front of the bathroom? Is your sister inside?”
Now, I was dying, taking the last breathes, and hoping that my mom would save me.
“Nothing, mom, I am just standing. It’s ok.” Jonah said hesitantly.
“Let me enter.” Said determinedly
“No. It’s dark inside. The monster may take you.” He said in a convincing voice, preventing her with his small hands from entering the bathroom.
But she entered the bathroom by force and saw me. Once he entered, she was stunned for a long moment, mouth opened, eyebrows raised, and eyes stared. This frozen scene didn’t last for long. My mother rushed to me, taking me before the scythe of the grim reaper takes me, endowing me another chance for life. While holding me in her arms, she looked with her frightened eye at my afraid green eyes. Now, I felt the air flowing through my tiny lungs for the second time, and I felt the beauty of adventure.
An infant survived death two times. What an amazing story you should write!
Hmmm, sounds miserable, and you may think that my grandma is the reason why I hated my brother because she unveiled these secrets, but this is false… a lie I was always using to avoid telling the truth, as whenever I tried to tell the truth, my mouth froze, and my tongue turned to the heaviest thing in life. Even if the stories and the reality were harsh and rigorous, I don’t usually build my arguments and feelings using them (No, no, no. This story is real, and my brother had confessed to me.); however, I only depend on my feelings, as they have never fooled me like humans, and they were, most of the times, too true.
Trust me, nothing has been started yet. This is only a brief introduction of the how-my-life-ended story. My brother Jonah took a huge part of this story, and this is not considered as a piece of a part, literally…
In shape of Words 