Traumatizing Dreams

Traumatizing Dreams
Days passed.
Things were normal for them but not for her. She couldn't seem to get out of her thoughts.
Out of her fear and paranoia. That always occupied her mind. She was scared. Trapped.
Caged. But nobody could see her shackles. Yet she could feel all the binds that had caged
her.
She carried on with her routine of eating the sleeping pills and sleeping before he came
home or going to his father's room so he wouldn't so easily get her.
It was dinner time, and the maid had asked Sheharzaad to come to the dining room. She
didn't feel like going.
She felt aloof.
She liked to be reserved and alone.
Depressed.
This was what she had just been feeling for the past few days.
She felt she had developed a hate for herself.
Whenever she would look at herself in the mirror, she wouldn't like what she would see.
And that would make her cry.
Her hopelessness in herself and in life had been increasing. She couldn't identify the reason,
but when she looked in the mirror, she didn't like what she saw as she used to before.
The other day, she was sitting on the sofa when slowly tears began to flow down her eyes,
and she began to cry out, "I hate myself."
She then stood up and stared at herself in the mirror and placed her hand on her face,
crying.
"I hate myself!" she cried out and soon enough began to sob, falling down on the floor.
Shehryaar came in on cue and, finding her so distressed, he approached her. His hands held
her arm as he made her stand up from the floor.
She looked up at him, "I hate myself. I hate myself so much!" She was crying. She circled his
hands around her neck as she stood up.
He wrapped his arms around her and hugged her, letting her cry on his shoulder.
To him, she had begun to seem like a depression patient now. Sudden outbursts. Frequent
nightmares recalling her past. And emotionally numb. All she had was fear.
Last night, when he came home and came closer to her, she fainted. The next morning she
was profusely apologizing while crying to him.
Currently, Sheharzaad was in her room again. Laying and doing nothing. Thinking about
what the maids were whispering about her today, calling her psychotic. The lifelessness was
evident in her eyes.
She could not understand what had been happening to her. Two days ago, she woke up
sweating at night. In her sleep, she had been turning sides. Though in her dream, she was
actually screaming, but it only came out as gibberish.
"S.. sir.. let me g-go," she was saying as Shehryaar, who was working on his laptop, lay
beside her.
"N-not th-this," tears were falling from her eyes. It gained his attention as he placed the
laptop aside and gave her his attention.
"Sheharzaad," he called her out.
"I d-don't w-want... w-want this,"
"Sheharzaad," he shook her body again.
"Cell... chains... cell... no... no,"
"Sheharzaad!"
"No!" she screamed, and her eyes opened. Her eyes met his, and she instantly cowered away
from him. She quickly looked around the room and a relief came over her that it wasn't the
cell.
She wiped her tears with the back of her hand, muttered a 'sorry' to him, and went back to
sleep.
Those dreams were getting intense. Not just that she would see herself in a place where her
virginity was taken or a place where she was kept for months, but her mind would put up
what happened in the car on their wedding day as well when she was again sexually
approached.
He wasn't as harsh as he had been towards her, yet still, the paranoia she had around him
wouldn't let her be at peace at any cost.
This was what her life had become.
A scared little pigeon.
And that was why she didn't want to join everyone for dinner, especially when she had the
opportunity of Shehryaar not being at home.
Sheharzaad politely asked the maid to walk away and inform the others that she wouldn't
make it for dinner since she wasn't feeling well. Even though Shehryaar had ordered her not
to skip her meals, her nauseating health prevented her from eating. Other than that, she was
well aware of the discreet side-eyes she had been receiving from her husband's youngest
aunt, and by the looks of it, she knew they were nowhere near positive. Moreover,
Shehryaar was out of Islamabad for some work, which was why she was hoping that he
wouldn't make a big fuss about it.
Nonetheless, it seemed her luck didn't abide by her wish, like always; the bedroom door
suddenly opened with a thud, revealing Shehryaar in his mighty form. Sheharzaad was
startled by the intrusion and clutched the shawl over her dress. She stood up after setting
the veil properly on her head and looked down, muttering a small Salam, as Shehryaar kept
standing by the door, staring at her with scrutiny. She felt extremely agitated under his
gaze, and soon her hands started sweating. In the meantime, he ploddingly walked toward
her, standing right in front of her timid state.
"Why didn't you go down for dinner?" he asked, causing her to look pale, thinking of the
consequences of disobeying his orders.
"I-I am sorry," she slowly whispered, hoping for him to spare her.
"I thought I was asking for an appropriate answer from you, not an apology. Now tell me a
good reason for skipping your dinner, or else I know other ways to make you say it."
Sheharzaad's breath hitched upon hearing the underlying warning in his voice.
"I-I was feel-feeling nauseous si-since afternoon, s-so I-I didn't have an appetite to e-eat." He
nodded his head, glancing at her, and saw that she indeed looked sick.
"Okay. Sit, I am asking the maid to get dinner for you along with some meds." Sheharzaad so
wanted to object, but it wasn't in her to object to any commands from him. Besides, she
wasn't prepared to take any of his harsh behavior at the moment, especially when he looked
like he was in a pleasant mood.