Those few hours when she returned from school to an empty house, were like Nirvana. She would deck up in her mother’s cosmetics and pose before the mirror, until the day her brother saw her.
Mythri had something new to learn everyday, watching as the lady transformed completely, walking, talking and even laughing differently as she got into the skin of her character.
Learned helplessness chained her life to an unknown agony and memories brought tears. Could you become a prisoner in your own house?
She was often infuriated by people who came by to visit her; Mansi suspected that people sympathized with her, and saw her as a hopeless victim.
Words wobble as she pours out her harrowing tale intermittently, and her struggle rolls down her cold cheeks like a splash of hot lava from the otherwise dormant volcano.
She looked down into the valley, almost searching for something, her hand firmly holding the tree, as if she'd fall and be surrounded by eternal darkness.
Get our weekly mailer and never miss out on the best reads by and about women!