*** TW: Has references to self-harm, read with discretion. ***

Self-harm is never great. As someone who has suffered from clinical depression for over a decade now, self-harm seems to be the easiest way out of the pain that we face every single day. However, self-harm is never the way out. The perps who instigate your depression - they would lose nothing at your loss, but the people who care for you are left with a scar they can never heal out of. Self-harm doesn't end depression, it simply passes on your baggage to others.

If you feel depressed, lost, anxious, or even experience fleeting thoughts of self-harm, do not hesitate to reach out. That one phone call makes the difference. If you know someone who is depressed or has self-harming tendencies, take the step, and help them. They won't say it, you will have to look between the shadows.

Major helpline numbers for countries from where My Beloved has maximum readership:

India: +91-9152987821 (https://icallhelpline.org/)
USA: 988 (https://988lifeline.org/)
UK: 999/112 (https://www.spuk.org.uk/national-suicide-prevention-helpline-uk/)

For other countries, follow this Wiki page:
https://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/List_of_suicide_crisis_lines

Finally, you can always vent it out to me. You can e-mail me, DM me on Instagram, or even leave a message on my board or a comment on my books. I will do my utmost to be the ear you need.

This book, this chapter, and any person related to the characters of this book, as well as the author, does not in any way, shape, or form; idealize, support, or glorify self-harm.

******

When I woke up, it was half past five. We had overslept, but could we blame ourselves? The cozy blanket felt amazing when the weather was this chilly. A few fleeting thunderclaps and the white noise of raindrops splattering on the window sills gave us another reason to continue snuggling.

"Ah!, let me sleep na Shekhar," Madhuri whined as I fought my urge to embrace my sleeping beauty and ignore the assignments. But we couldn't do so, we had to start working.

"I wish we could sleep a bit more darling," I responded. "But the assignments await. Don't you want to be done with them so that we can prepare for your half-yearly?"

She shook her head in disagreement. "Just 10 more minutes, Shekhar. Please!"

How could I disagree when she puts it like this? Everything in the world can wait, work, assignments, tests. Everything will wait, but if my girl wants to sleep, she will. "Just 10 more minutes okay?", I said as I kissed her head.

"I love you.", she said as she snored off.

It was 6:30 when Madhuri woke up from her slumber. While she slept, I cleaned the rooms, restocked dinner, set up our study tables, and was done with my evening prayers. The room felt refreshed with the subtle aroma of sandalwood emanating from the lit incense sticks.

"You are done with puja already?", she asked as she stretched herself, discarding the last remnants of sleep.

"Well, what do you think the time is, sleepyhead?" I countered playfully.

"About 5:15 PM, right?", she asked "Right?"

"Well, you missed the time by about 5 quarters of an hour!", I replied.

"No no no no no!", she panicked as she jumped off the bed. "6:30?? When will we do the assignments for tomorrow?"

"I have our tablets ready. Just get freshened up and we should be good to start.", I said.

In 15 minutes, the messy ball of cuteness who was stretching herself off the bed was now squeaky clean. Hair tied up in a bun, wearing a grey sweatshirt coupled with black track pants. I had to agree, this woman could carry any piece of clothing with the same grace. Be it our uniform or these comfort overalls, she was just phenomenally beautiful.

"Let's get to work, shall we?", Madhuri interrupted my thoughts.

"Wha.. Ah, let's get started", I responded.

●●●

The white noise of romantic Kishore Kumar melodies was rudely interrupted by the shrill ringing of my phone. It was Maa calling -

"Maa, had dinner?", I asked.

"Your family is dead you useless bastard," she replied.

"What? I can hear you talking! Are you talking gibberish?"

"Your father and his family will talk gibberish, you selfish imbecile! My family has always been reputed and rich, we never talk gibberish. You left us for one day, and you already forgot that we existed?"

"Maa, what are you saying? Why would I forget you? You know I am doing assignments here! I am not enjoying right?"

"No no, you and your father are working real hard. You all never enjoy. It is only me, my daughters, and my family who enjoy."

"Where is this all going Maa? Why are you acting like this? What have I done? I don't know what Papa has done, but what have I done? Can I not work in peace?"

"No, you all please work in peace. Let me leave with my daughters. I am done in this household."

I was left speechless as she hung up. All I could feel was the sudden rush of blood into my ears. I could feel them throb and turn red. Madhuri had her hands in mine.

"What's going on?", she asked. "Why was she talking like this?"

"They are fighting again.", I replied. I knew this too well. But it seemed things had gone horribly south. I didn't want to, but I had to try and fix it. How do you think I got all the trauma and scars from? Mending a broken family leaves its mark on you - trauma scars that seldom heal.

His phone rang twice before Papa picked it up.

"Papa, what is going on? Why is Maa so angry?"

"You want to know what happened? You happened! You fucking ruined my life. I regret that you are half of me, that I didn't allow your mother to miscarry you when she fell during her 7th month of pregnancy. We should have aborted the pregnancy when we found out we had conceived you unplanned. Without you, I could have saved for my future, and given your mother everything her sisters and brothers have. Now, with these ridiculous laws of this country, I can't even lay a finger on you, else I would have skinned you alive, you useless sinner! I regret that you are my son."

"The feeling is mutual, Papa.", I said, disconnecting the call.

I felt light-headed. I am used to being scarred once a month by my parents, it's the reward of being the elder sibling. Yet this is the worst I have heard. I wanted to reason with them and understand them. But what would I understand them? They simply want me dead and gone.

"Shekhar," Madhuri whispered. "What was all this?"

"It is a normal Monday in my house, Madhuri. It's just a normal day.", I replied.

"Doesn't seem like that to me.", she said.

"Don't, Madhuri", I replied. "I know my family is dysfunctional, but I don't want to know it from others that they are."

"I ain't talking about them", she replied. "I don't care for them, I care for you. You don't look normal. Look at you!!"

She opened up her mobile device's front-facing camera and put it in front of me. The person I saw on her phone wasn't the guy I knew. My face had an icy paleness to it. My ears and eyes had turned crimson, as I put everything in my willpower to prevent myself from breaking down. With the trauma I had gone through, I believed I was resilient to the rampant character assassination that I endured daily. It turns out I wasn't resilient at all. Maybe it crossed a threshold today. It must have.

"You don't have to hold back", Madhuri quickly added. "Come to me."

"No no, I am oka..." I said as I was interrupted by her hug. As the eldest sibling, with constant accusations, trauma, and insults, I had hardened my emotions to hide my pain. But I melted in the warm embrace of Madhuri's arms, within the confines of her pecks on my cheeks and slight head rubs. I cried like I never cried before. I never knew I could cry as I did. Unfiltered emotions flowed out of a scarred heart and a broken soul in the embrace of its lover.

"Let all of it go", she kept whispering as I cried. It might just have been my imagination, but the more I cried, the tighter she hugged me. In her embrace, I had felt safe and sheltered for the first time in these 18 years. 

"I ruined your sweatshirt babe," I said.

"You think I care about this sweatshirt more than you, Shekhar?", she asked.

"I... I don't think so.", I replied.

"Good, and don't think nonsense.", she replied. "How are you feeling?"

"Lost, I guess!", I said. "It feels numb inside."

"It's okay, I am here now.", she said kissing me. "So what happened? Why were they so aggressive?"

"Did you hear everything they said?", I asked.

"Pretty much! It's best that I know about it now rather than later.", she said.

"Well, it's a long story, and we have assignments.", I argued feebly.

"We are skipping school tomorrow. Will that make you open up?", she argued.

Maybe I should just give in to and allow her to know what it means to be me. I wasn't sure if I should, the darker side of my life is a train wreck. But if I wanted commitment, I should be thoroughly frank, shouldn't I? Well, fuck it!

●●●

The situation with my family isn't straightforward. My parents married straight out of college. My father didn't have much for himself when he married, and his parents forced him to leave their house as he chose to marry without their consent. Maa comes from an affluent family, yet her decision to get married into a commoner's family never sat well with them. Thus my parents were left on their own to deal with life the best they felt, and that's what they did.

Maa had been selected for her MBBS when she found she had conceived me. Out of nowhere, both of their families intervened and prevented her from going through an abortion. Bad choice, and both my parents resented it. I cannot blame them - they were young, 24-year-old college graduates. They had so much to live for, and so much to explore. They didn't deserve the responsibilities of parenthood that early in their marriage

So when I was born, my parents were still teens at heart. They had no idea how to raise a child, let alone one who was premature, had critical prenatal health issues, and might end up dead within the first 6 months of birth. There was no scope for Maa to pursue her career, and with her aspirations coming to an abrupt end, her resentment turned aggressive. In her blind desire to make me a 'better man than my father', she would use physical and emotional trauma to instill values she deemed critical.

Papa was the opposite, but not quite scot-free. He would barely assault me, but what he held back from physical trauma, he made up with the emotional one. His words were merciless, lacked empathy, and it always made me the villian in their life. In his belief to give his children a balanced life, he pushed us to a life he wanted - sports and science, when all I wanted was to be in the liberal arts and be an author.

The tussle between one-sided focus and balance, between studying and enjoying, and between righteousness and practicality culminated with my identity being crushed between the expectations of two polar opposite people. My childhood was lost trying to balance between the two of them. If I was studying a lot, my father would mock me of being a nerd, and if I was playing and enjoying, my mother would mock me of being worthless and a good-for-nothing underachiever.

The only thing that has been able to keep me going has been my ability to put my head down and work tirelessly. Even I was lost, hurt, broken, and crying, I would go back to my books. The more I studied, the less I cared for others. Papa's mockery would hurt, but not more than the inhumane flogging I would receive if I didn't study.

Trust me Madhuri, the only thing I have wanted more than you was to simply give up and let go of this pathetic existence. Facing aggresive parents on a daily basis eroded my optimism. I could see no way of this. But I was scared of surviving the attempt. If I would survive, my parents would traumatize me for publisizing their 'authentic parenting method', and how I was just another loser. So I didn't harm myself. Do I regret it? Maybe. But as I am aging, I realize that I can attempt to grow out of their shade, to become my own person.

That's me, Madhuri. Flawed, lost, and broken.