No. No. No. It can’t be.
“Kiddo,” he says in that same warm voice. But his eyes, they gleam with malice. It’s predatory and disturbing to look at.
My lungs feel like they’ll collapse any second from the lack of oxygen as I stagger back.
It was him.
Close family. Older. Reputed member of society. Successful.
My mom’s words replay in my mind. He’s the man who sexually assaulted her. The scar is exactly how she described it. He stares, enjoying himself as I connect the dots.
“You all right, kiddo?” he asks again. He is not concerned, though. The wordkiddoalmost sounds like a degrading taunt, holding no warmth like it used to before. He says it lecherously and my body flinches.
Suddenly, it hits me. The morning text. My aunt never calls me kiddo and it’s what she said in the message.
Fuck! Did he send it to lure me in here? Wait, how did he know about the video?
I’m so stunned, each revelation knocking into me like a ton of bricks and I can’t form words. My intuition tells me that I can’t be alone with him. I have to leave.
“I-I’m fine,” I reply casually so as not to spook him, but it’s too late. The monster is out of the shadows and I willingly knocked on his door. Maybe I can walk out unscathed. “Is Auntie Vandana here?”
“No. She went to the market.”
It takes every bit of the self-preservation and strength I possess to not run while he stands before me half naked and unashamed. I have a feeling he’ll chase me if I attempt to make a run for it. I need to be smart and not raise any suspicion that I know it was him who hurt my mom.
“Oh, okay. I’ll come later then,” I calmly say.
“Why in a hurry to leave, kiddo? You and I never spend time alone.”
I want to cover my ears every time he calls me that.
“I have classes in the evening,” I say while stepping back.
The second his expression turns hard at my lie, terror like no other freezes my body. Fight-or-flight response takes over my senses and I run just as his hand flies to catch me.
I hear him snarl and prowl behind me as I race to get away, almost reaching the staircase. I’m halfway down when I’m shoved hard from behind between my shoulder blades.
A pained screams hurls past my lips as my ankle twists and I tumble down. My elbow collides so hard with the ledge and I hear my bone crack. The pain is so excruciating that tears burst from my eyes as I land on the hard tiled floor with my head spinning at the ringing in my ears.
My uncle laughs manically as he slowly ambles down the stairs, like he has all the time in the world. My broken ankle brings me down when I attempt to stand and hide from the monster before me.
I whimper as I crawl backward. He smiles evilly as he comes closer.
“Like mother like daughter,” he taunts with his head tilted to the side. “That haughty bitch fought me too. It always bugged me how she got away. Now, you’ll pay for it.”
“Please don’t do this, Uncle.” The desperate plea spills out of my lips.
“Keep pleading, it only makes me harder, kiddo.” He chuckles while grabbing his hard dick, which is only covered by his boxers. His threat makes me want to puke.
All these years, he’s been hiding the darkness lurking below his cool facade and I never saw it. The times we sat as a family, celebrated festivals, and shared conversations with laughter flash behind my eyes. It was all a big fucking lie.
I stare around the room to find anything I could use to defend myself with, but he has me trapped in the hallway. With my broken ankle, I can’t even run and hide in any of the rooms. Nobody even knows I’m here.
Real terror grips me that no one will come to save me.
“Let me go,” I say, fear palpable in my voice. “I won’t let you get away with it.”
“And who’s going to believe you?” He sneers. “After seeing you fucking my son. You’re nothing but a whore and I’ll treat you like one.”