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Myriad colored fish swimming languidly disperse at the sight of the approaching predator. They take shelter among the seaweed swaying in rhythm to the water’s tune. Some rush for camouflage in the corals splattered with every color of the rainbow, twinkling with the semi-precious secrets they hold; polyps shy away from the guests. Others bury their heads in the sand like water-dwelling mini-ostriches. Hidden from prying eyes, they remain safe for a few stolen moments.
Bubbles break at the surface of the water from where seagulls are seen, squawking, as they fly away after a day of hunting for food. Wave after wave hug the shores of the beach; sand whiter and finer than snow stretch as far as the eye can see. Tufts of grass grow, solitary at first, then in wild abundance, joining arms to embrace delicate looking flowers. A lone rabbit stomps his feet as he chases a butterfly into the thicket of trees that take the reins from shrubs for the right to grow. Palm trees catch the fading light on their fronds, halting its linear journey, as the setting sun blazes the sky with a fiery redness one last time before it surrenders to sink into the sea.
The sky is left with a mélange of magenta and purple that slowly morph into darker shades, until the boundary between the heavens and the dark waters disappears. Peaceful darkness settles on the land, giving cover to blemishes that would stand out, ugly and repulsive, under the harsh light of the sun. Tranquillity is fragrant in the breeze that wafts from water to land, blessing leaves and petals of flowers; it carries just a hint of the taste of sea salt.
Beyond the woods are homes cherishing every possible luxury. Uninvited but always welcome, cool wind blows through the windows of a house, ruffling Barbie’s hair as she sits at the window sill. Perhaps, she waits for Ken to magically materialize out of thin air and call out for her to throw down her golden locks so that he may climb up her tresses and rescue her. Barbie’s glazed eyes are locked on a shadow that moves under the rule of the forgiving darkness to clamp a hand over the mouth of her owner. She is thrown on her bed, bent over. Pocahontas smiles from the bedcover. The screams remain imprisoned in her tiny chest. Only the tears, scalding from the humiliation and pain, are free to escape.
Welcome to paradise...
RSS 
I blame the guardians for not hearing the cries of abused children. If they looked hard enough, they would be able to see the ’signs’ of abuse.
The saddest thing is that when the victim is a very young child she (or even he) comes out feeling like she/he deserved it. They grow up feeling defiled and undeserving of anything beautiful and loving.
What abuse does is murdering the human spirit. And that is something that can rarely be rejuvenated.
Children are born in the nature of God and are purest of all... i duno when this would end......
PS: The girl resembles Grace...
PS: She’s pretty, ain’t she..
It’s hard enough to forget how we felt when we tripped over our shoelace and fell face down in front of a bunch of strangers. So, imagine trying to forget the humiliation and pain of abuse. I hope your friend finds within herself the courage to enjoy her life, without stifling that of her child’s.
I’ve been working for the cause of abused children for quite sometime now.
To me and the others who work for this cause, the nightmare is no less than that of the victims’. No amount of debriefing for us workers can take away the nightmare in our minds. I can’t seem to describe it enough.
It is hell in hell.
God’s creation is His family, indeed, the virtue of your act is much nobler than those with knowledge or a visible halo on their head!
****Salutes****
But in the process, though, I absorb the trauma as well.
I just hang tight in there and pray and pray to God when things get too much.
Like Fariha says, it is easy to sit and write a story but almost impossible to look in their eyes and swear to them that they’ll never be hurt again.
To quote you, it is hell in hell.
..And I am glad you finally forced yourself to comment!
It brought back memories of this person I have known. She has been thru this and more and I have seen how it has effected her.
It was someone whom she knew and trusted who abused and raped her and she was too young to tell this to anyone. And unfortunately for her, after some years she came to know from others that she was an adopted child.
She felt betrayed by everyone, even her parents and lost trust in everybody. She became a very complex person with suicidal tendencies (tried it couple of times) and developed a split personality. She would be extremely aggressive and almost evil like person and the next moment she would become extremely gentle and caring.
After some years, she met this guy whom she started trusting completely and being an extreme person, he became everything for her. She had not told her parents about her abuse but shared it all with him.
She needed professional help but she won’t trust anyone else other than this guy. This guy was inexperienced and untrained and had no idea how to handle anything like this, but somehow they managed. He helped her complete her studies, become a jewelry designer and become more confident and positive.
The last I know is she worked for big jewelry company and he is married with a lovely wife.
Her parents and the person who almost destroyed her, probably are living happily without any clue about what all she has gone thru.
You used the perfect word, betrayal. Every abused child or adult is left stripped of their trust in the world and since over 90 percent of abuse is from someone known, their trust is badly crushed, almost beyond repair.
Your friend definitely needed professional help for the anguish she was going through, but it is not really training that is important. What’s important is that you make it clear you are there for them, no matter what, which this young man did for her. Her story proves a loving and understanding stance is what’s most important.
I wish there were more stories with such happy endings.
On retrospect, this post is a bit Desert-like, I think. All pain and suffering and bottomless hope. Hope that may be wasted, but ’hope’fully isn’t!
Thought provoking and hard hitting post.
Sometimes I wish I could visit every single one of them and do unmentionable things that would leave them crying in pain. But many of them are lost souls themselves, and need help rather than punishment.
It’s such a confusing world.