AY y'all, this is part one of my short story, I might continue it I might not but idk 🌚
It was a ghastly, gloomy afternoon. Winter had been around for some while now. Although, it was uncertain, whether the winter you and Sania are individually familiar with, were of comparative nature or not. For you, it must have most likely consisted of ice cold evenings, wrapped up in blankets sat by the warm fire, spending away the days running up to the festive season with loved ones. But for Sania, winter could have easily been referred to, as a season of tragic episodes that seemed like a dark apocalyptic tunnel with light nowhere to be seen, nowhere to be reached, and nowhere to be experienced.
Sania sat on her bed, her arms leaning on the window sill, her legs folded. She was free now. But why was it that this freedom seemed so suffocating? Months had gone by but the echoes of her past still haunted the valves of her heart and the hair on her arms still stood up as if it was her past that still had a control over her and her mind. She looked out the window, observing each soul walking by. She often tried doing the same, but why was it so much harder than others made it seem? She would often leave her window open, close her eyes, and allow her face to feel the breeze escaping from the chilly weather outside of her bedroom window. She knew she was free to roam outside, without the barriers of her past stopping her, but it was the thought of the public, the thought of the staring eyes on her as she stepped afoot outside that shivered her insides; that put her off completely. Ironic if you must, that in a way, her past was still controlling her although without official barriers.
A knock on her bedroom door stopped her in her thinking tracks; it was her brother, Ismail. He came in to her bedroom and took a seat opposite her on the chair adjacent to her desk. He sat in silence for two minutes. He observed her face, her eyes had become extremely tired, even more so than before. Almost as though her eyes were beholding a story that was fraying with each blink, a story she was too scared to share, a story she would probably be better without. (Continued in comments)