Zeni: A short story

Today, as I heard the news, I slumped on my bed as my legs were unable to accommodate my weight. 

For the longest time, I'd watched you from afar, admiring your reserve, that air of sophistication that clung to you like a second skin, your seeming confidence and the way you easily attracted people to your corner. 

You were the true definition of a sophisticated social butterfly.

One I wished I could be. 

You were always so happy, so vivacious, so exuberant. You lit up every room you walked in.

Every time I'd seen you, my heart leaped. 

How could one girl be so perfect? I'd think to myself.

So undeniably beautiful, how could you manage to draw even the shyest to you? Like a moth to a flame.

You excelled in everything, our school debate, spelling Bee, track, press club, drama, choir. 

At such a tender age, you were jack of all trades and also master of all.

We'd meet your absence in class and feared cause everyone knew the teachers would be cranky throughout that day.

"If Zeni were here she'd have answered this question exactly how I wanted it answered." They'd repeat over and over again. 

We had so many intelligent minds in class but they all paled when compared to you.

The teachers had had a taste of you and no matter how tasty, no other person was a good enough meal.

You were the sun of our school, and the ideal girl to most of us. 

We wished to be you.

Nothing could dampen your day, or so I'd thought.

When I heard the news this morning, yes, I'd slumped on my bed.

Zeni, had it all been a facade? 

The tenacity with which you'd made everyone feel loved. 

Your zeal for life and all your talks about living it to the fullest. 

Your ardent belief that we were all made for more.

Those smiles that stretched your tiny oval face wide and made your eyes tinier than they actually were.

 

Had they all been facades?

The ambition with which you pursued everything you took an interest in, the vivacity of your steps, the intensity of your devotion to friends. 

Had they all been facades? 

False fronts?

Dearest Zen, 

Had you been decaying inside? 

Unable to speak of the rot that festered deep beneath your skin. 

Had it seemed like you were being choked, forced to pretend that life was all we'd thought it was for you?

Were those smiles a translation of how deep you hurt and how permanent the scars you bore had become? 

Had it looked impossible to reach out for help?

Or had hurt simply become your norm?

Today, when I heard the news that you'd taken your beautiful life, I'd slumped on my bed. 

The chaos that was my room, long forgotten in the ache that had overtaken my heart.

The gruesome tale of what had been consistently done to you for years, told in a beautifully horrific way.

You story, scribbled in the artistry that was your handwriting.

Even till death and in the face of such pain, you'd stayed beautiful.

Zeni, 

In spite of the abuse you had to endure in the hands of the one you'd called "Teacher" and the one your parents had called, "Brother" how had you failed to see with clarity and feel with conviction the beauty that had stared back at you in the mirror every morning?

How had WE failed to see?

Could we have been so blinded by your radiance that we'd been unable to see anything else?

And why, why had you not asked for help Zen?

Why had you let yourself be silenced? 

You'd given up and as a result you've torn your parents' hearts. 

You've left a gaping hole in your stead.

How did you fail to realize that suicide wasn't escape but a gateway to eternal suffering.

Our teacher has been arrested, other girls now finding the courage to speak up. It hadn't been just you Zen. He'd hurt a lot of young girls and now, he'll surely pay. Parents won't rest until justice is meted out.

But then, you're lost Zen, forever lost to us.

You'd paid the price, in the most unfortunate way known to any.

I truly wish you hadn't.

I wish you'd have peace after enduring so much pain and hurt but then, I don't know.

I loved you Zen, from afar I know, but I did.

A lot of us had.