Looking back into my days had always been a desperate hunt for moments of happiness when I felt like any other normal child. Dare I say moments in a plural form when I could barely scrape through one that was close to a smile.
My roots couldn't hold on to its soil and as it slipped out so did generations of childhood in my family.
Dawn breaks regularly and I'm not ready, it's another day today and I just woke up to the loud reporter's daily on television. Breakfast wasn't any special, I drank more water than I ate.
It was mid summer and I had a routine I couldn't stray away from.
I crashed on the couch, picked up the remote and pulled up the blanket I had left there from last night. As I switched through channels my mind caught up in sync with it too. It decided to take me on a roller coaster ride through my worst days, likely the ride was compressed into seconds and sent waves of different emotions.
I remembered those days of abuse when I felt faded under my own skin and the next scene when I mercilessly punched myself to the ground where I thought I deserved to lay. Before I knew the room was filled with a shade of dark blue, the sun had started to set.
I had wasted my hours again. I felt crowded in my empty house and decided to get out for a while. I carelessly strapped on a bra under my top and fit into my sweatpants. The stairs looked like they multiplied every time I ran down a floor and left me breathless.
I walked and crossed lanes like a child in a supermarket. My head constantly hid under my hood and my eyes saw nothing more than my path. I increased my pace and kept going until a little boy crashed into me. He curled into a ball on the floor while his arms monotonously tried to cover his face, legs and shoulders.
I placed my hand on his back to reassure him when he mumbled his apology to me. After minutes of consolation and an ice cream on a bench he finally opened up to me. "I'm sorry, somehow it's always my fault and I get thrashed for it", he said.
A boy so young had so much in common with me and I suddenly I wasn't so lonely anymore. I couldn't let life toss over another childhood. Soon after our last 'crash', we became friends. In the process, I managed to recover a part of his innocence and save it somewhere deep in our hearts.
We never got to exchange names but once or twice he would refer to me as his 'saviour' or 'escape pod'.
Everyday of my life I've heard people call me Yavana, ironically my name meant youth something I desperately needed back. The thought of one, short life and twenty years of it wasted sent shivers down my spine.
I longed for those days when bruised knees and report cards should've been my only pain. You see I'm a brown girl from a little town called Orchha, a hidden gem and that's how I've lived.
Hidden or lost, I could have been saved but at what cost?