She went inside her house, and locked the door shut after her. She thought a quick shower and a hot steaming cup of coffee would calm her mind. She took her coffee and went to stand next to her window, her favorite place in her apartment that looks on to the street. She would spend most of her evenings sitting by the window, drinking coffee, and watching the world go by. Now, however, she could see only the empty street. She wished she could empty her mind like the street. It wasn’t possible. Several doors of her past were opened up.
Her drunken neighbor wasn’t the only or first man she that made her feel miserable. There were many before him that made her miserable, angry, sad, and seriously doubt herself. There was her father who wasn’t happy when she was born because he wanted a son who would be a mirror image of him. Then, there was her younger brother who thought whatever she has is rightfully his, including their parents. She never liked how a family friend, whom she fondly called “Uncle,” would make her sit so close to him. She hated the fact that her ex-boyfriend would take her for granted and didn’t seem to think that hitting her for petty quarrels was wrong. Then, there were her male colleagues who were jealous of her progress. She would mutely listen them discuss how it is “easy” for her as she is a woman. She had lost the count of whistles and remarks that she has endured on the streets. She knew she wasn’t the only one. Several headlines she would read in the newspapers where proof of that.
With a heavy sigh, she turned her back to the window. Her coffee had gone cold. She set the cup aside and went to sit in front of her dressing table. She wondered how she had tolerated the wrongdoings all these days. Why hadn’t she uttered a word about it? Why she kept enduring it? She remembered how she was silenced whenever she tried to speak about it. She knew it had started taking toll on her mind. She remembered how it had become too much to handle. He neighbor’s words were still ringing in her ears- “I can see it. I can see a murder in your eyes. Do you wanna kill me?” She stared at her reflection in the mirror. The murderer stared back at her.
First half of the story: In the Eyes (Part 1)