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It’s 2 AM, and after months of reading stories on Parhlo from other girls, I’m finally making the decision to share my story.
In the Pakistani culture, our mothers teach us from the very beginning to love their brothers, our Mamoos (uncles). But I forgot how to love my Mamoo 11 years ago. I’m not sharing this story as anonymous to draw sentiment towards me within the reader, but to pour my heart out in words that I can never say to my mother.
I was 7 back then, didn’t know much, but that night when you, uncle of mine, slipped your hands in places they shouldn’t be, I knew something was wrong. I remained calm, innocent as I was, and let you keep telling me to close my eyes and sleep until I finally did. I woke up again, moments later, twisting and turning not being able to shut my eyes again. For years I lived with the images with it all seeming normal, but today I realize what you did.
My Mother, your Sister, loved you the most out of all her siblings, unfortunately her daughter cannot do the same. Today I see how close you have brought yourself to your lord and that you would be the last person to break someone’s heart. But at the same time I see that you can barely make ends meet and how you don’t even have enough to feed your kids.
My mother often asks me how can someone so close to God be in such a miserable state ? I don’t have any words to give her a reply with. Maybe it’s a punishment ? Because of you, every man except my father scares me. I can sit among a large crowd and still feel like all the men are eyeing me. When I see how kind and simple you are I want to forgive and forget. But I’m sorry. I cannot forgive you or forget what you did. I am the only daughter of my parents, only sister of three brothers. Today you have also have only one daughter and three sons, I am sure that you have realized your mistake.