Zain sighs as he finally relaxes on the floor, his arms paining. But he had grown accustomed to it, for as they say, no pain, no gain. Sweat covered his body, his hair wet with it. He trained for two hours every morning and then, two hours every night.
This was the only thing that kept him sane and also, his punching bag. They were the only reminder that he was strong. He sighed and stood up, grabbing a towel that laid on his bed.
He looked at himself in the mirror, his scars shining in glory. One was still fresh, turning painfully purple-blue. Zain ran his hand through it, enjoying the pain that came with it. He knew that no matter how much he trained, how much he developed his muscles and eight pack abs, he would still be weak against them.
His new bruise was a proof of his weakness. He would never win against them.
He went to his washroom, showering with cold water so as to calm down his body. The water relaxed his muscles, removing traces of sweat.
As he stepped out with his towel around his torso, his phone buzzed. He checked it to see that there was a message from Nikita, his lovely girlfriend and the only person he truly felt loved him. He loved her too, and he waited for the day he would be out of this hell hole and finally be with her.
Parents are gone for the weekend. Spend the time with me?
Her message read and he grinned. He couldn't wait to spend time with her. Mainly because that meant he could be away from this place, he once called home.
He quickly changed, grabbing some clothes and putting them in his sling bag. He grabbed his car keys and locked his room behind him. He didn't want them to be looking into his things.
He quietly walked down the stairs of the large mansion he resided in, the place he once called home. But he no longer had the reason to, for the person who made it home, his dear mother was long gone. There wasn't a trace of her in the mansion, his stepmother had ensured that. His father was away most of the time, claiming that Zain reminded him of her.
The death of his mother changed everything for him. His loving childhood being replaced by torturous memories inflicted by his cruel stepmother. He knew why she did it, there was no hiding the fact. She wanted all his father's money for her son, Zain's stepbrother, Armaan. The sixteen old boy was unknowingly bought into the vicious cycle spun by his mother. He felt bad for him.
Armaan was the result of a one night drunken mistake of his father's. He knew that his father loved his mother with all his heart, but alcohol is a dangerous thing. It makes you commit mistakes.
When his mother came to know about the existence of Armaan, she cried for days. Her heartbreak eventually led to her death. Zain hated his father for that, but he knew his mother wouldn't have wanted him to have a strained relationship with his father. So, he forgave him.
Armaan hated Zain, his mother insured that. Throughout the years, Armaan made sure that he made Zain's life miserable and even though Zain was two years older than him, he got no respect from him. They took advantage of his goodness, the only thing that was left in him of his mother.
His mother always taught him that. Smile and be happy, she used to say. So, he did. He became the good boy his mother taught him to be.
When Armaan realized that his father left him with nothing, his hate for Zain only grew. Zain's father had made it clear that he would inherit the business, considering the fact that he would be majoring in business from Columbia University, soon enough. His acceptance letter had come and then, he will be off to Columbia, far away from here.
Far away from his stepmother and him.
"Where are you going?" the voice of his stepmother boomed from behind.
Zain cussed, damning his luck. He have had his 'punishment' this morning only, what does she want from him, now?
He turned, to be greeted by the disgusting sight of his stepmother. She was wearing a tight black dress, looking like the whore she is. He very well knew that she was constantly cheating on his father, and it seemed that his father was oblivious to it. But then, he was never home.
"I am going out to a friend for the weekend." he replied, his voice shaking. She scared him.
She was a master of manipulation.
"Oh, finally, the house will be free from disgusting presence. And I wonder, when will you free this world from your presence? You see, you are not needed here, just like your mother." she mocked him, running her perfectly manicured nails along his face.
Zain felt anger brewing inside him. He wanted to yell at her, to tell her to shut up. But his mind went numb whenever she was around. He learnt his lesson of not talking back to her, long time ago.
Zain was glad that he wasn't here. Her partner in crime. Zain's torturer. Her brother.
"Now, get out! I don't want to see your ugly face again." she exclaimed and Zain turned around, running away from the house.
As he stepped into his car, he sighed. Finally, he was free for the time.
With a smile on his face, he drove out of the mansion.