Hola queridos bloggueros, hoy traigo un relato especial, dedicado a quienes fueron victimas de personas en quienes confiaban y les hicieron daños de maneras, que nadie jamás debería experimentar (ya sea abuso físico, verbal o emocional). Cada situación que vivimos deja huellas o heridas, a veces tan profundas que se ocultan en tu interior. La protagonista de mi relato se llama Xiomara, y así es su historia:
Una mañana, mientras se arreglaba frente a su espejo, Xiomara, se vio saturada de un recuerdo doloroso, uno que la volvió una mujer dominante, desconfiada, insegura, y dependiente, tanto así que le costaba tener amigos e incluso, pareja. Ahora, la pregunta es: ¿Qué le hizo ser a Xiomara así?
Xiomara era una niña solitaria, muy apegada a su hermano mayor y muy emocional. Hasta que un día, siendo solo una niña, rompieron su confianza y su corazón. Ara, como le decía su mamá, dejó de existir. Empezó a encerrarse, a llorar, a odiar, a querer escapar. Y ese día fue así:
“Era un sábado soleado, muy ajetreado para sus padres y tenían algunas cosas que hacer. Ella se sentó en su pequeña cama, y miró a su mamá, con sus largos rulos negros, maquillándose y sonrió.
—Mami, ¿a dónde vas? —preguntó curiosa, y su mamá le sonrió.
—A comprar algunas cosas con tu papá. ¿Vamos? —le dijo su mamá, pero Ara, solo quería hacer su maqueta del sistema solar, ya que era una niña muy aplicada.
—Tengo que terminar mi maqueta, mami —dijo algo triste, y dividida entre ambas cosas.
—Está bien, mi amor, tu hermano va a ir a casa de su amigo y va a estar viniendo de vez en cuando por si necesitas algo ¿sí? —Ara sonrió y asintió.
—Tráeme algo rico para comer —pidió con una sonrisa de súplica, y su mamá aceptó con un asentimiento.
Ara comió cereal con leche, y empezó a pintar las bolas de animé, cuando terminó habían pasado horas, y decidió bañarse para limpiar la pintura de sus manos y brazos.
Al estar sola, se baño con calma y tranquilidad, lavó su cabello liso ondulado, el cual era corto en ese entonces, y se fue a vestir en la pieza de sus padres, donde había aire acondicionado, por el calor que hacía.
Estaba poniéndose un vestido de tirantes de minie, cuando vio a su hermano quitándose la ropa, abriendo la puerta, ella se quedó sorprendida y le gritó—: Sal, me estoy vistiendo.
Pero su hermano tenía una mirada extraña, ella sintió escalofríos y cuando empezó a acercarse, retrocedió con miedo. Pero él corrió hacía ella y la lanzó a la cama.
Xiomara gritó y empezó a gritar y patalear para defenderse, mientras lloraba. Su hermano balbuceaba incoherencias y blasfemias, intentando tocarla, por unos minutos pensó que no podría librarse, al ser más fuerte y grande que ella. Pero se negó a rendirse, así que puso todas sus fuerzas, en sus piernas y lo empujó, logró tirarlo de la cama, luego se levantó y lo volvió a empujar cuando se intentó levantar, y tiró la puerta, para cerrarla.
Luego, bloqueó con el pasador. No podía parar de llorar, casi ni podía respirar, pero lo podía ver y escuchar gritar, la puerta tenía un vidrio en el medio con papel ahumado (polarizado) y ella podía verlo desde adentro, como gritaba y golpeaba la puerta con sus puños.
Ara miró al que se suponía era su hermano, al que admiraba y amaba, era un monstruo. Que le rompió su corazón. Lloró en una esquina donde no la pudiera ver, mientras se tapaba los oídos para no escucharlo.
Amenazaba con matarla sin contaba a alguien, como estaba poseído, se disculpaba y luego la insultaba. Ara lloraba con mas fuerza, y no paró de llorar hasta que escuchó a sus padres llegar, y a su hermano irse.
Desde ese día Ara desapareció y Xiomara apareció, la versión dañada y destrozada de una niña que confío en quien debió cuidarla y amarla”
Xiomara se miró al espejo, y miró sus canas, empezó a llorar al sentir la soledad, y las arrugas del tiempo pasar por su rostro. Y sentía la ira burbujear en su interior, empezó a tirar todo lo que había en su peinadora, y gritó de rabia. En ese momento llegó su sobrina, una chica tan dulce y amorosa de 15 años, que la abrazó y calmó. Esa niña era hija de su hermano, pero nunca la quiso ni a la madre de la nena, por lo que Xiomara ayudó a criarla. Y esa niña era su fortaleza.
—Tía Xio, vamos a terapia, por favor —suplicó la niña con preocupación y dolor.
Aunque Helen no sabía nada de lo que le pasó, podía presentir. Y Xiomara aceptó, estaba cansada de vivir con ira, con odio, con dolor. Quería sanar. Y quería proteger a Helen de lo mismo que a ella le pasó con el monstruo de su hermano.
Porque hasta las personas mas cercanas a ti, que deberían amarte, protegerte, no siempre lo hacen, a veces, so monstruos esperando el momento para atacarte. Así que cuida de tus hijos, sobrinos y hermanos. Incluso de cualquier niño al que puedas ver en peligro. Nunca te calles. Y nunca confíes en nadie a tus hijos.
Espero que les haya gustado, es un relato triste, duro, realista, destructivo, pero también es una alerta, un llamado y una reflexión, para ti, para tu familia, para que puedas actuar y prevenir, que alguien destruya la infancia de un niño. Y si tu fuiste ese niño o niña, busca sanar. Porque la ira, solo te destruye de adentro hacía afuera.
Gracias por cada voto, lectura o comentario. Y espero sus opiniones sobre este relato, sea cual sea.
Hello dear bloggers, today I bring a special story, dedicated to those who were victims of people they trusted and hurt them in ways that no one should ever experience (whether physical, verbal or emotional abuse). Every situation we live through leaves traces or wounds, sometimes so deep that they hide inside you. The protagonist of my story is called Xiomara, and this is her story:
One morning, while she was grooming herself in front of her mirror, Xiomara, was saturated with a painful memory, one that turned her into a dominant, distrustful, insecure, and dependent woman, so much so that it was hard for her to have friends and even, a partner. Now, the question is: What made Xiomara this way?
Xiomara was a lonely child, very attached to her older brother and very emotional. Until one day, when she was just a child, her trust and her heart were broken. Ara, as her mother called her, ceased to exist. She began to shut herself away, to cry, to hate, to want to escape. And that day was like that:
"It was a sunny Saturday, very busy for her parents and they had some things to do. She sat on her little bed, and looked at her mom, with her long black curls, putting on her makeup and smiled.
-Mommy, where are you going? -she asked curiously, and her mom smiled at her.
-To buy some things with your daddy. Shall we go? -said her mother, but Ara just wanted to make her model of the solar system, since she was a very dedicated child.
-I have to finish my model, mommy," she said a little sad, and torn between both things.
-All right, my love, your brother is going to go to his friend's house and he will be coming by from time to time if you need anything, okay? -Ara smiled and nodded.
-Bring me something nice to eat," she asked with a begging smile, and her mom agreed with a nod.
Ara ate cereal with milk, and began to paint the anime balls, when she finished it had been hours, and decided to take a bath to clean the paint from her hands and arms.
When she was alone, she bathed calmly and quietly, washed her wavy straight hair, which was short at the time, and went to get dressed in her parents' room, where there was air conditioning, because it was so hot.
She was putting on a minie strapless dress, when she saw her brother taking off his clothes, opening the door, she was shocked and shouted to him-: Come out, I'm getting dressed.
But her brother had a strange look on his face, she felt shivers and when he started to approach her, she backed away in fear. But he ran towards her and threw her on the bed.
Xiomara screamed and started screaming and kicking to defend herself, while crying. Her brother babbled incoherencies and blasphemies, trying to touch her, for a few minutes she thought she could not get free, being stronger and bigger than her. But she refused to give up, so she put all her strength, in her legs and pushed him, she managed to throw him off the bed, then she got up and pushed him again when he tried to get up, and pulled the door, to close it.
Then she locked it with the pin. She couldn't stop crying, she could hardly breathe, but she could see and hear him screaming, the door had a glass in the middle with smoked paper (tinted) and she could see him from inside, as he screamed and hit the door with his fists.
Ara looked at the one who was supposed to be her brother, the one she admired and loved, he was a monster. Who broke her heart. She cried in a corner where he couldn't see her, while she covered her ears so she wouldn't hear him.
He would threaten to kill her if she didn't tell anyone, as he was possessed, he would apologize and then insult her. Ara cried harder, and did not stop crying until she heard her parents arrive, and her brother leave.
From that day on Ara disappeared and Xiomara appeared, the damaged and shattered version of a girl who trusted the one who should have cared for her and loved her."
Xiomara looked at herself in the mirror, and looked at her gray hair, she began to cry as she felt the loneliness, and the wrinkles of time pass over her face. And she felt anger bubbling inside her, she began to throw everything in her combing machine, and screamed with rage. At that moment her niece arrived, such a sweet and loving 15-year-old girl, who hugged her and calmed her down. That little girl was her brother's daughter, but he never loved her or the baby's mother, so Xiomara helped raise her. And that child was her strength.
-Aunt Xio, let's go to therapy, please," the girl begged with concern and pain.
Although Helen knew nothing of what happened to her, she could sense it. And Xiomara agreed, she was tired of living with anger, with hate, with pain. She wanted to heal. And she wanted to protect Helen from the same thing that happened to her with her monster of a brother.
Because even the people closest to you, who should love you, protect you, don't always do it, sometimes, they are monsters waiting for the moment to attack you. So take care of your children, nieces, nephews and siblings. Even any child you might see in danger. Never be silent. And never trust anyone with your children.
I hope you liked it, it is a sad, hard, realistic, destructive story, but it is also an alert, a call and a reflection, for you, for your family, so that you can act and prevent someone from destroying the childhood of a child. And if you were that child, seek healing. Because anger only destroys you from the inside out.
Thank you for every vote, reading or comment. And I look forward to your opinions about this story, whatever it is.
Translated with www.DeepL.com/Translator
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