The Ungrateful Daughter

Ever since I got hold of the key, I had kept wondering what lock it could open. It was almost inevitable to not think of the one locked room in the first floor. It wasn’t even opened for cleaning. There had to be something there. And when Abba and Ammi went for a wedding and Ryan had gone out with friends (without the two days’ prior notice that I must give, of course), I decided it was the right time. I walked softly even though there was nobody else in the house and stopped in front of the wooden door. It wasn’t a f*******n room; it was just never opened. Nobody said meaningful things about the room either. Just a locked room. Probably an unused room just like the other room in the same floor. Nobody even came up here except to go to the terrace. But something within me knew that there was more to it than just a locked room. Half-expecting the key to be the wrong one, I turned the key in the lock. At first, I thought it was getting stuck. But then, almost like a miracle, it opened. My heart started beating wildly as I pushed the door open and poked my head inside. It was dusty and dark. I switched on the flashlight on my phone and stepped inside. It was a bedroom. At least, it looked like it used to be one. There was a wardrobe, a bed, a table and posters. The walls were covered in drawings and scribbles. The words on the walls were painful. The drawings smelled of tears. As I rubbed my fingers against the writings on the walls, questions were getting answered; questions that I never knew had been brewing within me. And when it struck me, it didn’t come as a shock or surprise. It felt as if I had known it all along.