She whispered:
"He wasn't human anymore. He became frightening. Cold. Vicious. His presence alone gave us chills."
Her voice broke entirely.
"He became a monster."
Aasia suddenly stopped, shivering uncontrollably. Her eyes filled, wide and glassy. Isha and Obero froze for a moment, terrified. Then Isha leaned forward and tugged gently at Aasia's sleeve.
Aasia jolted, snapping out of the memory as though surfacing from deep water.
She spoke softly, her voice carrying a tired sorrow. "As I said before, it feels like I am reliving my past while telling you my tale. I can still feel the chills from those times." Her hand trembled as she snatched the bottle from the table, drinking every last drop before her breathing slowly steadied.
When she set the bottle down, her fingers moved to the glass box beside it, the one that held a delicate pink lotus. The moment her eyes found the flower, her shivering eased, as if its calm had wrapped around her. She settled the box on her lap, took a slow breath, and continued in a steadier tone.
"It was about a month after dad became normal and only a few days after we returned from the trip. Like any ordinary day, I came home early from school. But that day, dad hadn't returned yet. The only one in the house was mom, sitting on the sofa and watching her favorite movie.
"Her back, which was usually covered in fresh bruises that looked painful even from a distance, didn't look painful at all that day. The old marks had healed, and for the first time in a long while, just seeing that made me feel light and relieved. I couldn't see her face from behind, but knowing her, I was certain she was smiling at the movie. That thought alone brought a smile to my own lips.
"Still smiling, I hopped onto the sofa beside her and watched the movie with her. She kept nudging me to go take a bath, teasing me like always.
"When the movie ended, the telephone rang. I picked up the call and heard Dravid's voice." Aasia paused, turning to Isha. "I didn't mention him leaving Noida yet, right?" Isha shook her head. Aasia nodded and went on. "Two days after the storm during my nine, Dravid left the kingdom and went to Vebula. He didn't tell me anything. Instead, he told mom on the day the storm swallowed Noida. She was with him that night.
"I was furious he didn't tell me, so I refused to speak to him for weeks. But I loved him too much. Eventually, I gave in and started talking to him again. When dad began transforming, mom slowly stopped me from calling him. Even when I spoke to him for a moment, she hovered and warned me not to tell him anything about dad.
"Eventually, I stopped calling him. But that day, after our trip, I was sure mom would let me talk longer. Dad was normal again, and for the first time in a long time, I wasn't scared. I was just happy to hear Dravid's voice.
So I kept talking, letting all my excitement spill out, until mom grabbed the phone away and ordered me to go freshen up. I didn't want to stop, but after losing the argument, I had no choice but to go bathe.
I rushed through it and tried to return as fast as I could. But while I was getting dressed, I heard a loud crash from the hall, something hitting the wall and shattering. I hurriedly pulled on my clothes and ran out.
What I saw snapped me out of the warm dream I had been living in for that short month. It threw me back into the nightmare I had been trapped in for three years.
The telephone lay in pieces across the floor. In the middle of that mess, dad was dragging mom by her hair.
He pulled so hard that strands ripped out from the front of her head. Blood was running down her scalp, but he didn't care. He kept dragging her toward the sofa.
Before I even realized what I was doing, I ran to her and covered her with my body. I hoped he would stop, the way he did when she covered me once before.
He paused, and for a second I thought it worked. But it hadn't. He shoved me aside and raised a belt in his hand. He looked me straight in the eyes.
Those eyes… they weren't human. They were cold. Terrifying. Like a starving beast staring at its prey.
He only looked at me for two seconds, but it felt like forever. Then he turned back to mom and began hitting her with the belt.
In that moment, I lost everything. Not just the will to help her, but the will to move, to think, even to breathe. My body went numb. My mind went blank. Even my tears stopped, as if someone had built a dam behind my eyes. No matter how hard I tried, nothing came out.
That night, I stood frozen in the corner while dad nearly killed her. I watched her dress tear under the blows. In some places, it wasn't only the cloth that tore, it was her skin. And I did nothing. I just stood there, dry-eyed and useless.
After that night, it became routine. Day or night, whenever dad felt the urge, he beat her with the belt. In two months, he broke nearly ten belts. In the third month, he brought home a whip.
Home felt like an ocean I was drowning in. The harder I tried to swim up, the waves dragged me down again and again. Sometimes I stayed late at school, trying to catch a breath. But then I would remember mom was alone, and that it would be like leaving her to die by herself. So I always ran back.
For mom, the pain didn't matter anymore. What mattered to her was only one question. Why, and how, had dad turned from a loving husband and caring father into a monster? But for me, that question didn't matter. What mattered was her pain, her suffering, and the fact that I couldn't do anything to stop it or save him.
When I was thirteen, that morning was like all the others. Dad beat mom before I left for school. But when I returned, there was a polis car outside our house. Officers were dragging dad out the door.
That scene pushed my mind into every dark corner it could reach. No matter what path my thoughts wandered down, one image stayed the same, opening its jaws wider each time. Dad killing mom. Just imagining it shattered something inside me, but somehow I stayed upright and dragged my trembling body toward the door.
When you know you are about to witness an ordeal, the smallest step, the one you take every day without thinking, suddenly becomes the heaviest step you will ever take. Your body feels like stone, your mind betrays your heart, your thoughts stop making sense, your eyes blur, and something inside you twists like it wants to break.
I was feeling all of that at once, but still, I took that step.
What I saw on the other side of it was not at all what I had braced myself for. It was not mom lying in a pool of blood, nor mom strangled, nor any of the terrible visions that had clawed at my mind. It was simply mom, lying on the floor, covered in bruises like always.
The moment I stepped into the hall, she stirred. She stood up in front of me, walked to the kitchen, picked up a water bottle, drank it dry, then came back to the sofa and sat down as if nothing in the world was out of place. As if she didn't notice the polis cars, didn't hear dad screaming as they dragged him away, didn't sense the chaos in the walls around her.
It wasn't strange because it was new. It was strange because it was exactly like every other day, and that normalcy struck me harder than anything else.
A moment later she turned to me and asked, "Did dad leave before you came home?" I couldn't answer. I just stood there, frozen. While she stared into my eyes, another polis car screeched to a stop outside.
The sirens wailed. Mom rushed to the door immediately, as if she suddenly understood it all. But by the time she reached the gate, the polis cars were gone, leaving only an ambulance behind.
The doctors tried to take her to the hospital. They tried hard. But watching her, covered in wounds yet still fighting them off with more strength than they expected, they eventually gave up and stepped away.
The moment they let her go, she told me to look after the house. Then she got into the ambulance car and left. I heard her words, but I didn't respond. I was too busy wrestling with the confusion twisting inside me.