“This is the third girl you have given birth to. It should have been a boy; at least this time.”
He had almost barked at her. A finger probed the baby; and it probed harshly. She was a new born child but still a tiny wave of shame rose in her tiny heart. The mother cringed and looked other way.
As months passed by the wave rose higher and higher; she was often left gasping for breath.
It was her thirteenth birthday. She was fragile as gossamer. But there was no respite for her. He had since plummeted to the zone of beasts and mere probing left him angry. He regretted not killing her at birth.
It was her thirteenth birthday and she lay devastated. She looked at her mother. She saw her eyes; eyes that were bereft of tears. She heard her muted cries; cries that lacked courage.
The wave of shame engulfed her. She wished she could drown for ever.
A post for Three Word Wednesday
Word prompts- devastate, gossamer, plummet