There was nothing I could say to make her feel better, and she just couldn’t help herself, at least not emotionally. I knew that she was devastated. She had barely managed a curt hello the night before when I saw her at the viewing. She looked small and lost next to my father’s casket. He had managed to look strong and imposing, and impossibly stern even in death. I hadn’t stayed for long. Later, leaving the viewing, I had decided to accept her breakfast invitation. Back in my hotel room, I had taken a faded family picture from my suitcase. It was the last real family picture. Looking at it, I was amazed that I had been able to leave only months after the sixteenth birthday party where it was taken. I looked so young, and small and weak like my mother. The sweater I wore in the picture had been a favorite, I remembered wearing it to hide the bruises, it’s high neck the perfect cover. I had grown tired years before of wondering why my father was so angry, why my mother stayed, why. When he came next time I proposed to have a one day tour on Sunday firstly he said no but both children pressed him for tour he put condition we shall be back by night ok said all I was pleased Next Sunday we had a tour about 150 km away holy place where hotel and dharmshala are available.We reached at 12-00pm enjoyed bus traveling with children between us. After preliminary tour surrounding and lunch we went to hotel one suit was available on third floor after observation he said we may go to other I said why because only one suit was on the floor he said.But we children and I insisted for the same we came into room with two separated beds he told I am coming soon and went for out side. After one hour he came both children were just sleeping in one bed. I closed the door and sat on bed and told him to come sit near to me yes and no he came today.I wore bra blouse and sari with panty and petticoat. After some moment oh some thing under my blouse and tried to remove it but I could not.
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