Sensitive content ahead. Reader's discretion is advised.

*****

Nitya

This darkness around me in this prison has now become my world.

I can barely move, and every inch of me aches due to the way Uday beat me earlier before walking out of here.

I'm no longer bound to the wall but I still can't get out. For one thing, Uday has locked the door from outside. And the other is he knew I would not dare to get out of here in this state.

My clothes are in shreds, torn apart by the scissors that he used to torment me.

He didn't care how much I cried or begged him. He enjoyed it, laughing as he cut the clothes to bare me in front of him, heedless of my cries and screams.

The memory of his cutting through my clothes, the blade of the scissors running through my bare skin, makes me feel sick with shame. I had felt so exposed, so powerless in front of him. Even felt pathetic for not being able to protect myself.

He did what he wanted to. Looked at me in my most vulnerable form, beat me, and treated me like I was nothing.

And now, here I am in shambles, feeling like Uday has stripped away every bit of who I am, leaving me with nothing but fear and shame.

I wonder if I'll forever remain stuck in this nightmare without any way out until death finally consumes me. I wonder if Prathamji is looking for me, if he would come to rescue me.

Uday had said Prathamji told Babuji that I was no longer his responsibility. But I'm sure he lied to me. Perhaps to break me further. But I know my Prathamji. I know he can never say such thing.

My eyes fill with tears when I realize he is not mine. Yes, he is my husband, but his heart belongs to someone else. His heart that I yearned for could not be mine when I was whole. And now, when I'm broken, the dream of being with him seems even more impossible. After all, why would he want me, a shattered and shamed woman, over Sandhya—the girl who he loves.

I know he must be searching for me because even though he does not love me, I have sensed his care for me. I have seen him worry for me.

A part of me hopes he would find me and get me out of here. But the other part wants him to never find me. Because I don't think I would be able to bear him looking at me when I am this broken. I would feel too shamed to face him and even look him in the eye.

"Prathamji," I whisper, pain-filled moan bursting out of me as the ache from missing him squeezes my heart.

I love him so much.

If I am to die here, in my last moment, I wish to see him. Just a glimpse of his smiling face.

Please, God. Please, fulfill my last wish.

With the remaining flicker of strength slowly leaving me, I feel my body going limp and my eyes beginning to close.

But I open them the very next second when I hear some voices.

They are distant at first, but then, they start getting louder.

My heart skips a beat when I recognize Prathamji's voice as being one of them.

Is it real? Is he really here? Or, is it my mind playing tricks on me?

The voices keep getting closer, and I hear him calling my name, his voice filled with desperation.

"Nitya? Where are you, Nitya?"

I should feel relief that he is finally here and he'll get me out of here. But panic is the only thing that I feel.

No. Prathamji can't see me like this. He can't.

The though of him seeing me in this state—broken, with my clothes in tatters—fills me with deep shame.

I suddenly start screaming as the panic surging through me fills me with adrenaline.

"Yahaan mat aaiyye! Andar mat aaiyye!" I cry, my voice cracking from exhaustion and fear.

("Don't come here! Please, don't come inside!")

The door begins to open, but no one steps inside.

"Nitya, it's me," Prathamji says, his soft voice overwhelming me.

All I want is to hug him and cradle in his warmth that always makes me feel safe. But I can't. Not when I feel like I'm no longer myself.

Tears stream down my face as I look down at myself.

My saree and petticoat (underskirt) are no longer in my body. And my blouse is torn from the front, hanging loose in my arms. The straps of my bra are also snipped cut with the cups barely covering my breasts. The only thing Uday left untouched is my panties.

"It's my treasure, Nitya. I'll take it only after I make you my wife and claim you on our first night." His manic voice rings in my ears, causing my body to rack with sobs.

"I'm here to get you out, Nitya," Prathamji calls out and I look at the door, wanting to see him, yet being unable to pluck the courage to face him.

"My clothes are....," I pause, feeling to ashamed to complete the sentence. "I.... can't face you. Y-you can't see m-me like this."

The silence stretches for a few seconds before I hear his voice again. "I won't look at you, Nitya. Only I'll enter inside and I promise I'll cover you first. Okay? Do you trust me?"

"Yes," I immediately answer, and the door fully opens.

As soon as I hear him entering the room, I close my eyes, unable to look at him, no matter how much I want to.

I hear him moving closer.

"I'm not looking, Nitya," he says. "I'm going to cover you up now. Then, we'll get out of here."

I feel something warm and soft being draped over me—his coat, maybe. His hands are gentle as he adjusts it around my shoulders, making sure I'm covered.

"May I look now?" He asks after he is done.

"Okay," I reply in a low voice, my eyes still closed.

Tears pour out of my eyes when I hear him suck in a breath.

Is it because he feels disgusted looking at my state? Do I look too repulsive?

A mix of angst and dread washes through me as I wait for him to say something.

"I'm going to carry you now, Nitya," he says softly. "You don't need to worry about anything. Just hold on to me. Okay?"

Too exhausted to speak, I weakly nod.

He then slides his arms under me and lifts me up.

I cling to him, burying my face against his chest. I don't want him to see the bruises, the state I'm in. I just want to disappear.

As he carries me out of this hell-hole, his grip firm and protective on me, I feel something that I have always felt in his presence.

Safe.

Although I'm still scared, still ashamed, I let myself lean into him, trusting him to keep me safe.

*****

In the backseat of the car, I'm cradled in Prathamji's lap, wrapped in his arms, as the car moves steadily along the dark road.

I don't know from where he got the blanket after he got me out of that hellish prison, but he has it properly draped over the coat that he draped around me inside.

His hand is gently stroking my hair, perhaps trying to soothe me, but no matter how warm and safe his embrace feels, I am unable to stop the tears that are silently streaming down my face.

Prathamji keeps whispering to me, his voice tender. "You are safe now, Nitya. I'm with you. I won't let anyone hurt you now."

I want to believe him. I want to lose myself in his warmth. I want to let his soothing words chae away the horror that's still clings to me.

But the memory of my torment is too fresh, too vivid.

I can still feel the sting of Uday's countless slaps, the cold touch of scissors against my skin as they tore through my clothes, the way he looked at me with such hatred and disgusting desire, the way he took he took pleasure in my fear and pain. It's like a nightmare I'm unable to wake up from.

I clutch the blanket tighter around me, hiding beneath it as if it can somehow shield me from the shame that's burning inside me.

Although Uday is not here, I can still feel his eyes on me. The way he had stared at me after cutting away my clothes, stripping me of everything—dignity, hope, strength. He has left me with nothing but the shame of being seen like that by him, of being so utterly powerless to protect myself.

I bury my face deeper against Prathamji's chest, the tears continuing to fall quietly as I tremble in his arms.

"I'm so sorry, Nitya. I should have been there sooner. I should have protected you," he says as he continues to gently caress my hair.

His apology cuts through me. The remorse in his voice raising my angst.

It's not his fault, but I can't even bring myself to say that. I can't bring myself to even look at him. I feel like I have been tainted, like the broken pieces of me are too shattered to ever be put back together. The shame is unbearable, wrapping itself around my whole being like a vice, squeezing me until it's hard to breathe.

Prathamji's arms tighten around me, as if he can sense my pain. "I'm here, Nitya," he whispers. "I'm here with you. You are safe now."

I say nothing. All I do is cry silently in his arms, too broken to respond.

I feel like I'm drowning in the darkness, and even though he is right here, holding me close, I don't know if I'll ever be able to find the light again.