Some News Hit Home

Guys, let’s just have a little talk. 

I did something I usually refuse to do. I watched the news. Actually, I watched and followed just one news.  

A little 2 years old girl was brutally beaten and killed by her mother. Her mother managed to crush the child’s skull with her bare hands. The girl was 2 years old.  

The family was already known to social services, they GAVE UP the child after she was born and social services gave her to a family that actually loved and took care of her. Upon the request of the biological parents, the girl was returned to her biological family. A family that had a history of violence and to a biological father who was already charged for domestic abuse. 5 months later the little girl was taken to the hospital in Zagreb with a crushed skull and covered in bruises. The beating wasn’t a one-time thing. The child was consistently beaten for 5 months and social services DID NOTHING!  

The case hit the news and from then the whole country was talking only about the child that was losing her life in the hospital. The doctors, often in tears, explained that this was the first time in their life they have witnessed such injuries and from the start we all knew that she was not going to make it. She died in the hospital. 

I wish this was the first time Croatia was struck by such an event, but no. A child suffocated and thrown into the sea by his mother in 2017, 4 kids thrown off a balcony by their father in 2019. All of these families were under the care of social services. My family was also under the care of social services due to domestic abuse. I know what it’s like when the system fails you over and over again and it breaks my heart to listen to all of these politicians and social service representatives who are just twisting the narrative. #croatiafullofshit

One day there were indications that the child was beaten, the next day they claim there was no sign of abuse. It is taking them more than 6 days to start spitting out names of those from the system responsible for this tragedy. The grandma of the child went on television and said that she went to social services and told them that the girl was being abused. They did not react, they did not take the child from that family and now they have the audacity to lie to the public and claim that there was no signs of abuse. I am appalled and disgusted by my own country. It’s not that its just taking them some time to gather the evidence – they are burying them.  

I know that corrupt system inside and out, I’ve heard promises of change and I have been through enough shit to know it’s never going to happen. These few days, watching the news about that poor child were triggering to the core because I can hear their rhetoric of lying, covering up, deflecting, talking a lot without saying much. A life was lost, it’s not the first one. How many more little graves are we going to have to dig up before we admit that domestic abuse is a systemic problem in this country and that we have institutions that are not doing their job as they should?  

They are trying to come out with numbers that they are understaffed, that this was an “isolated incident” and that these things are bound to happen sometimes. I can to an extent agree with them regarding them being understaffed, but I want to see people held responsible, I want justice, I want a public trial, I want to feel for the first time that there’s justice for the abused in this country.  

This is why I’ve been off the grid for a while. I was just processing this, many of you saw I did a lot of writing in Croatian on my IG today but I just had to take it off my chest. I honestly believe that all victims of this corrupt system in Croatia need to speak up to finally make everyone realize that none of these are isolated incidents. We have to speak up for those who will never get to say their side of the story.  

I hope that this little girl is in peace now and I hope we will not fail her as a society and let these people get away with it.  

Sending love and positive vibes, 

Latest Poem: Poem #362
Youtube videos: Luna’s channel
Latest Coffee Date: Manipulating the Public Attention
Latest #savingme: Give Women Their Rage Back
Life updates: Come have a cup of Coffee with me


#savingme: Give Women Their RAGE Back!

Throughout my existence on this platform, I have often put up post such as “leave something positive that happened to you so we can share some good vibes”. I put up many posts like this in 2020 because this year was the year we all needed to remind ourselves of things we are grateful for because all of us have struggled with our own demons and problems in this pandemic. So I had to write this down because I didn’t want you to think I have anything against positivity and looking for reasons to smile. With that being said, let’s get into what I really wanted to discuss here.

I don’t post a lot on #savingme because it gets hard. I no longer live in domestic violence, but talking about it, opening some wounds is still painful and the fact that my brain just decided not to remember a lot of my childhood to protect me (I guess) doesn’t make this easier. I think I have repressed memory, but I am not doctor. Maybe my memory just sucks but I believe that my brain is trying to protect me from those hurtful memories.

Now, let me ask you a question. Why do you expect women to be happy and smiling all the fucking time?!

I am not attacking you directly because I don’t know you but if you ever used the phrase “You are so much prettier when you smile, you should smile more often etc.” I am kind of attacking you. If you ever placed a woman in a situation where she was forced or bullied into smiling and pretending everything is okay, I am kind of attacking you. To try to explain this better to the male audience that might not understand this so much – forcing women to be composed, happy and pretend like everything is perfect all the time is equal to the idea of the “masculine man” being imposed on men where you are expected to be a stereotypical man who should know how to do stuff, lift things, not have feelings or cry ever. You know what I am talking about “the manly man”. Since I am not a man and do not have experience with this, I would like to point out a poem that sums this up nicely: Guante – “Ten Responses to the Phrase ‘Man Up'”

Why am I writing about this and linking it to domestic violence and abuse? Let me explain that. Women, and I have seen this on my mother, feel the shame when they go through domestic violence. What will the people say if I call the cops? I am a bad mother because this man is beating my kids. It falls upon me to carry the burden of this domestic violence/abuse without realizing I am the victim. The same thing happens with rape. The victim is shamed into silence and the “women have to be happy” feeds into this fucking problem.

We are expected to play a part in the world and a great part of that role is covering shit up and being happy all the time, giving out this impression of having our life together, having the perfect family, being good cooks, caring for kids and expected to want to be mothers, if I might add (I could write a whole new post about this topic). When we get angry, when we voice our discomfort or just our opinion that doesn’t sit right with other people then we are PMS-ing. “It’s that time of the month”. “Our hormones are doing the talking”. “We will calm down once our period is done”. Stop bullying women into thinking they are crazy when they are unhappy! Stop bullying women into not seeking help when they are abused.

When shit hits the fan, when the cops are on the doorstep, when women walk around with a black eye, when someone is DEAD, when a woman kills herself because she was raped, then we hear the phrase: “We didn’t even suspect something was wrong, she always seemed so happy”. How many times have you heard this from someone or on TV? How many fucking times have you heard this phrase or a variation of this phrase? Why do we need to have women mentally and physically scarred for life or a dead body to realize that there’s something wrong?

When a woman says no, when she pushes you away, when she tells you to stop, when she calls the cops on you and accuses you of abuse, she is not making stuff up and being crazy. She is uncomfortable and scared and this is not the time for women to think they should go easy, not raise their voice or say NO with an uncomfortable, fake smile. You have the right to get angry when someone is invading your personal space and abusing you. You have the right to fight back and seek help. Don’t let anyone take that away from you.

This is why I say GIVE WOMEN THEIR RAGE BACK. Give us our anger back and watch us evolve even if it scares some. Just that freedom of being able to experience emotions that society tried to tell us we are not entitled to, will give us also the freedom to speak up about abuse and to fight the oppression.

For anyone dismissing all of this TRUTH that I just wrote as a “feminist rant that makes no sense” and if anyone envisioned me as a man-hating, no-shaving angry female that is fighting a fight that doesn’t exist anymore because “we gave women rights” let me just tell you that 1992. was called the year of the women the same way that 2018. was called the year of the women and despite all of this we are still fighting the same bullshit, the same sexual harassment, women are still fighting harder than men to get into high positions and the same people are still trying to silence us and bully us into submission. Google your facts before you call women angry feminists and trust me that we will write, yell, protest and fight as long as we have to until every woman and every little girl stops being silent about oppression and abuse because “that was the way it has always been and if you speak up, we will shame you into believing it was your fault. now SMILEEEEEE”.

This is not to say that women are never the abusers, but I can only speak from my perspective. I know there are men and boys abused by their mother and/or father or any other person who are scared to speak up because of the “manly man stereotype” or because they go through the same fear and shame mentioned before. I think that abused men and boys are an issue society has to dive into thoroughly  because we cannot pretend that it is not happening and telling men to “Man up”. There are stories to be heard from their side and I hope they will speak up as well.  If you want to share your experience you can on this platform and you can stay anonymous if it makes you feel safer and better.


#savingme is the community where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not.

Latest Poem: Poem #345
Youtube videos: Luna’s channel
Latest Coffee Date: Flowers in the Garden 


Why Do I Shout About Gender-based Violence

Why do I shout about gender-based violence? Frankly, the answer is simple… Because I have been silent for too long! Yes, it is my time to speak up and speak out. Why? Because abuse does not go away if we ignore it. Much like the rest of society, I conditioned myself to partly ignore abuse. I did not want to, but I felt that speaking out was too risky. Why? Because it is likely that:

  1. People will not believe you.
  2. People will judge you.
  3. People will feel sorry for you.
  4. People will side with your abuser.

In other words… It is painful. It is painful to share personal pain publicly. It is like rubbing salt into a wound. But covering that wound with a band aid, does not make it go away. The wound needs exposure to heal, and when the scar emerges, it is not ugly. The scar tells a beautiful story of survival. Perhaps I sound a little abstract right now. Let me break it down…

At the age of 19, I entered an abusive relationship. He did not trust me, he accused me of things I did not do, he cheated on me, he lied to me, he badmouthed me to others, he recruited his friends and family to terrorize me telephonically, he called me vulgar names, he got physical with me a few times, and he even tried to strangle me once. He tried to use me financially. He wrote off my car, almost killing me and other passengers, whilst speeding and driving drunk in wet conditions at night. I left the relationship many times but kept going back over a period of 8 years! I went on to date other men but kept returning to him. I was trauma bonded to him and I did not know it.

What was the result of this relationship? I withdrew into a shell, became depressed and lost my confidence. Without realizing, I became a people-pleaser and essentially a doormat for everyone to use. After leaving him for the final time, it took me 7 years to recover from the abuse; to slowly rebuild myself. It took a lot of hard work, and grace from God, but I eventually liberated myself, and regained my confidence and joy. I thought I knew everything about abuse from this experience at a young age. I was convinced that it could never happen to me again because I would know better. But then…

At the age of 34, I entered a second abusive relationship. Yes, 34! I was not an inexperienced, naïve teen anymore. I was a full-grown, strong, independent, confidant, mature woman when this happened to me. And this time it was far worse! This abuse was not overt at all, so I did not recognize it and I did not see it coming. It was narcissistic abuse. This man insulted me, criticized me, judged me, belittled me, lied to me, objectified me and played manipulative mind games with me. He tried to control me and change my identity (personality, appearance, diet, political views and religious beliefs). He also tried to get money from me. He ripped my self-esteem to shreds. I only realized what was happening when the abuse changed from covert to overt. When I fell pregnant, his mask dropped. He began to harass me and stalk me because he wanted me to have to an abortion. When I refused to have an abortion, he went on to drug me without my knowledge, to kill our unborn baby.

What was the outcome of this relationship? My unborn baby was killed against my will, and my life was endangered in the process. I was living abroad at the time and had to flee the country for safety away from him. This meant leaving my home, friends, church and job. My entire life crashed to pieces, and I ended up with Complex-PTSD due to the abuse, trauma and grief that I experienced at the hands of this psychopathic man.

So how did I end up in a second abusive relationship? The answer is simple…. Lack of education! So yes, this is why I now shout about women abuse. I am not silent anymore because my story is education for women around the world. It is validation for them, and inspiration for them to also to speak up and speak out. I want to join my voice to the others who are making a difference today to bring about awareness.

After the first abusive relationship, I only understood what I had experienced. I did not have education about abuse. I did not understand what makes a woman a target, I did not understand what makes a man an abuser, I did not understand the patterns abusers follow, I did not understand the different types of abuse, I did not know that women keep falling into abusive relationships until they resolve wounds within their inner child, I did not know how to avoid being a target again, I did not know how to fully heal properly. All I ever had as a resource back then was The Oprah Winfrey Show, which helped me to a certain point at the time.

Now after the second abuse, my eyes have been opened to a whole new world of what I did not previously know about abuse. With the Internet, Facebook and YouTube now, I have had access to educational resources from multiple psychologists and survivors. I am convinced that if I had this education back then I would not have ended up in a second worse situation. In recent years, survivors have bravely come forward to tell their stories publicly about narcissistic abuse. The Internet is now flooded with resources to educate women (and men) about narcissistic abuse.

I wish I had the knowledge back then about narcissism, sociopathy and psychopathy. I wish I knew more about abusers’ motives for power and control. I wish I had heard of the terms like love bombing, idealization, devaluation, intermittent reinforcement, coerced reproduction, blame shifting, projection, discarding, gaslighting, triangulation, smear campaign, flying monkeys, bait and switch, trance induction, trauma bonding, Stockholm Syndrome, cognitive dissonance, hoovering, narcissistic supply, impression management, masking, pathological lying, narcissistic injury, narcissistic rage, dissociation, PTSD and so on. I wish I had heard of all the various healing therapies available. I wish I knew of all the subdivisions of abuse. It is not simply verbal, physical and sexual. There is spiritual, financial and psychological abuse too. I used to think that rape was about uncontrollable sexual desires. Can you believe I only learnt last year that rape is actually about power and control? Was I living under a rock all these years?

How is it that we, as women, are not educated about these things in high school? Why do women only learn about these things ‘post-abuse?’ Why do we only get help when it is too late? Why do we have to endure abuse a second time (or more) before we find information to help us?

Reader, please, I urge you… Please read up on these terms which I have mentioned. I promise you, it is a rabbit hole worth travelling down. Please teach your children about it. If you are a teacher, please teach your students about it. Please make the general public aware of it. Please use your various social media platforms to drive awareness, as well as any other public platform that you may have.

For lists of helpful resources to get you started, follow these links: 8 Book Suggestions for Survivors of Narcissistic Abuse and 10 Online Resources for Survivors of Narcissistic Abuse.

Within my small circle of family, friends, church and colleagues, I encounter dozens of women who have been deeply wounded by abuse in its various forms. I also encounter men who are hurt by narcissistic women. This must stop! We need to stand up against this violation of human rights, and we need to stand up for each other too. Silence is not the answer! We cannot stop the ongoing cycle of abuse by remaining silent. It is time we stopped caring about what people might think or say. It is time we braved our pain and exposed it to the salt that threatens to hurt us. The long-term cleansing that takes place, will be worth the initial sting of the pain.

So why do I shout about women abuse?

  1. It could save someone’s life, or at least save them a lot of trauma and damage. Educate, validate and liberate!
  2. It brings healing. Free your voice, free your pain!

As a final note, I want to say to those women who are still in danger of their abusers… Please be cautious about speaking out. Please consider if the abuser will harm you or your children for speaking out. If that is the case, I would advise that you only speak to trusted authorities for now. When it is safe, you can share your story with the world.

Nisha Devdhat is a South African born writer, using her words to spread love, bring healing and give hope, while educating and traveling the world. Currently, she is based in Asia as an English teacher.
Her writing portfolio includes articles, poetry and book reviews, which focus on the themes of literature, travel, education, abuse and trauma.
Nisha offers her writing skills to the public through her writing service. You could hire her as a freelancer to create content for your business or blog.
Nisha’s educational background is English Language and Literature, Teaching English as a Foreign Language, and Marketing Management.
Writing is Nisha’s way of expressing herself, externalizing emotions and practicing introspection. Writing provides her the opportunity to free her voice, challenge the status quo, and positively impact change in society.

IG: @nisha_devdhat
FB: @myunshackledmindwriter


#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 

#savingme Poems

#savingme – Poem #286

No means no. Pushing you away
doesn’t mean try harder. No, she did
not ask for it. She is a woman and she
has a right to make her own choices and
dress how she wants without the threat
of being beaten up, raped or killed for it.
Get that fact clear in your abusive mind.

#savingme Poems

#savingme – Poem #263

You. You with your bottle and words
sharp like broken glass on the floor
from the glass you threw at me. You.
You with your addiction always thinking
about yourself. I might be your daughter
but the blood in my veins is thinner than water.
Trust me, I wish I could change that red
poison which binds me to you, maybe then
this wound would hurt less.

Did you feel like you had control in your miserable
life every time you would come home drunk
and beat the shit out of me, my mother and my sister?
Did it make you feel good or worthy? Did it mean anything?
Did you ever regret it?

Million questions I’ll never get an answer to because
to this day you deny ever being an abusive monster.
You can deny it but it doesn’t change the fact that
there is a special place in hell reserved for the people
who try to put out the light they brought to the world.

And you still think you’re a king. Well, dear father, kings
protect their heirs and you tried to put yours into the ground.
Kings leave a legacy for their kids and you just took and
broke everything. Left me with nightmares and scars
that still bleed every once in a while.

#savingme Poems

#savingme – Poem #240

I am doing this old school, putting pen to paper.
Like 13 years ago when I started writing this mess down,
learned that violence can inspire creativity.

On the floor, the bed dragged to the door,
mommy told me not to make much noise because dad
was convinced he was alone.

In case he heard me, got upset and kicked the door down
there was only one way, jump out of the window
to the grass that, I swear, was never the greener.

I found a gift in your violence, beauty in the bruises
that covered my mother’s body every time you saw the
bottom of the bottle.

I found words beneath the insults to write down my anger,
to make sure it doesn’t boil inside of me turning me into the
drunk, selfish monster you came to be.


#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 


#savingme – Solace and Sanity

Your hand released
Everything changed
Family extracted
Like I never existed


Little girl
Tear filled eyes
Stains down on her cheeks
Scars across her tiny body


Love, a foreign dream
Comfort, no such thing
Tragedy, encompassed grief


Those dark brown eyes
Concealing what they have seen
Visual antipathy


Little smile
Pasted on perfectly
Something she learned
Authentic joy a mystery


Separated siblings
Mix and Match despite their feelings
Disposed of completely


Another child
Made to pay the price
Adult responsibilities
Addiction’s insanity


Seven years old
Lifetime of misery
Wise beyond belief
Desperately pursuing stability


Running to escape memories
Desperate for harmony
Just a little safety and peace


Wonderment in simple things
Never taking each breath for granted
Every day a new opportunity


Thoughts infiltrating
Positive healing
Complete tranquility


Lost in the majestic beauty
Embraced by strength
Smile on her face
Kissed by the sunlight
Absolute comfort




#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 


#savingme – Why Me?

Another house
A new family
Why me
New school
No one knows me
why me
A different room
New monsters
why me
All alone
This house isn’t home
why me
Picked up and removed
They have no clue
Why me
My brother is gone
Can’t even call on the phone
why me
A million tragedies
Locked inside of me
why me
Remember smile and be polite
Complete strangers judging
why me
Examined under the light
Imperfection in plain sight
why me
Confused, damaged and all alone
Scary visions feel more like home
why me
Different than them
Only demons live within
Why me
Surviving the darkness
Hungry and cold
Why me
Sleeping on a bed of stone
Down by the river as viciousness unfolds
Why me

Written By

The Broken inside of me


#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 


#savingme – Shame, shame

This is the hardest post I’ve made so far.

Shame is a hard topic for me. I hate parts of myself and I am working on healing them, but honestly it has not been easy for me.

I spent years feeling ashamed and alone. I had this idea in my head that if I let anyone get close, they would inevitably hurt me. I fought against myself. I would run away from relationships or I would let someone in and then push them away.

I started to add more Shame on top of the shame I already had. I started drinking to numb the pain, and all that did was cause more pain. I was stuck in a vicious cycle.

It wasn’t until a counselor told me that I had it all wrong, did I really start to understand the root of my fears. He taught me about transferred emotions. An idea that was foreign to me.


He explained that when we are young, under the age of 10 or so we don’t understand what shame is. Yes we know the difference between right and wrong. We can feel bad about something and scared of being punished, but at that age, shame is something we can only feel if it is transferred to us by someone else’s actions.

This is not to say you can’t have emotions transferred to you as an adult, you certainly can and it happens all the time.

For me it was the daily abuse, and eventually sexual abuse (at the age of 7),that I suffered from. It wasn’t until I was a teenager that I truly understood what happened. I felt dirty and unclean.

I kept asking myself questions:

Why did this happen to me?

Was I a bad kid?

Did I even deserve to live?

The last thought plagued my mind for almost 15 years and still surfaces now and then.


I don’t know if I’ll ever be fully healed, but at least I am trying. One thing I have figured out, is that I am not to blame for my abuse. There was nothing I could have done to change what happened, it wasn’t my fault.

I did make some choices that I am not proud of, and while I probably made some of these choices because of my trauma, they were still my decisions.

I am making amends with my choices in the best way I can, by being a better person. I have been sober for years and while there have been some slip ups, I have never stopped trying to be a better person.

I hope this helps other people who have gone through, or are going through similar situations. While writing this is harder than I thought it would be, it definitely makes me feel better than I thought it would.

So, if anyone out here has been through verbal, mental, physical or sexual abuse, it’s not your fault.

People make choices and no one has the right to abuse you, and you don’t have the right to transfer that emotion on to another, just because you were abused.

Abuse is never an option and you deserve better.



#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here. 


#savingme- How Do I Escape?

“Hey, kid! Get me some water!”

A surly, old man shouts from his table. I fill a jug and hurry to serve him before Father gives me the stink eye. I haven’t been performing well lately. Not in school. Not here, in the restaurant. Father owns a small restaurant and earns just enough to provide for the family and to quench his thirst for alcohol. Mom manages the restaurant most of the time because of Father’s incessant hangovers.

Someone shakes my arm and pulls me out of my reverie. Father. He looks at me with eyes full of angst and a wildness that comes from inebriation. I have good reasons to be afraid of him but I try to hide the dread whenever I can. I lower my head and walk to the nearest table, throw away the mushy leftovers from the plates and wipe the table. From table to table, I serve the food and clear the old plates, adding them to the pile I’ll have to wash later. Maybe, Mom will offer to help.

I wish I could get out of here.

I’m cleaning another table when Father calls at the top of his voice,”Patrice, come here!” My pulse quickens and I scurry towards him, legs shaking. What did I do now?

“What. Is. This?” Father asks with an eerie calmness which masks the wrath behind each word. I look up to see what he is pointing at: a greasy table with an oily plate on it and a couple waiting to sit there. I clean the table as swiftly as I can and apologize to the customers for the delay. They sit down, grunting and begin to skim through the menu. My eyes slowly creep up to see my fathers’ and his look of resentment says it all.

He’ll deal with me later. Later when he is drunk and when his anger gets the better of him. He’ll probably hit me and then I’ll cry myself to sleepIt has happened twice this week.

The sun is emitting its last rays and fear grips me as the evening wears on. My hands tremble when I serve the dishes.

I don’t want the day to end. I don’t want the day to end.

Father is nowhere to be seen. He must have gone to the liquor shop nearby. I shudder at the very thought and bury myself with work to prevent my mind from wandering. Mom is preparing the dishes along with Nancy, the other cook. Mom has often tried to stop Father from drinking but that just agitates him more. Mom and Father fight a lot and once, I’d even seen him slap her during an argument. That was the first time I thought about escaping.

Father returns with a bottle of liquor and I gulp involuntarily as my heart starts racing. I serve the dish to the last customer in the restaurant, hands trembling. I accidentally drop ketchup on him and a deep red botch covers his shirt. Fury takes over the customer and he yells profanities at me. To him, I’m just a stupid clumsy kid who can’t get a job done right. And maybe, I am. Father glowers at me and apologizes to the customer for my impertinent behavior.

As soon as the customer leaves, Father clasps my wrist and drags me to our house adjacent to the restaurant. Mom hurries behind us, begging him to stop and calm down.

“Unlock the damn door!” He growls at her. Mom wails as she opens the door, pleading him to be calm.

Once we’re inside, he pushes me forward, takes a swig from the bottle and slams it on the table. Mom pulls me aside by her hand protectively. With clammy hands and tears sluicing down her cheeks, she weeps uncontrollably. Father yanks me away from her and my only protection is gone. I feel…vulnerable. I don’t want to cry myself to sleep.

He shouts incoherently, “What was that, Patrice?!” I stand speechless, motionless.

The couple could have chosen another table. I want to say it. But I can’t.


“What the hell was that, you stupidgirl?!”

I try hard to stop the tears from falling. I fail. I know what awaits me and I brace myself before it comes. He raises his hand and strikes my face.

A moment. Just a moment of intense, physical pain and a lifetime of haunting nightmares. A lifetime of suppressing the hurt and distress. Excruciating pain and fierce revulsion boils inside me. Blood rushes to my cheeks and tears obscure my vision, blocking my throat and wetting my face. Mom’s shrieks fill the silence and I just can’t lower my head anymore. I raise my head and glare right into his malicious eyes.

Father slaps me hard again and I fall to my knees, dark strands covering my face. I let out ugly sobs and look around wildly for the door. What am I thinking? I can’t run from home! Can I? How much of a coward can I be?

I try so hard to compose myself, setting my jaw and clenching my fists and I raise my face to look at him. He is about to hit me again when Mom stops him. He yells at her loudly but fatigue washes over me and I can’t hear a word he says. My abdomens feel hollow and my chest has become a tight burden. The tears block my eyes and the last thing I see before passing out is Father raising his hand again. But I don’t feel the strike. All I feel is the need to escape.

Hey guys!

My name is Rashi Singh and I love writing fiction. This is my site and I’d appreciate if you check it out.

In many households, violence is a method of “teaching” and by teaching, I mean hitting them just because they don’t follow something or enforcing them to do things that they’d rather not do.

Please note that this piece is my story but expressed as fiction.


#savingme is the column where abuse victims can publish their experiences just to let go and find comfort and support. Maybe it doesn’t feel like much but just publishing your story for others to read makes you strong. You can send your story about the abuse you went through to and you can choose if you want it to be anonymous or not. More details here.