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Beyond The Surface:"My journey-Story 3"
Two months have passed since my internship at the consulting firm was almost over, and it was time for me to return to my home country. However, what happened on my last day in Belgium was beyond anything I could have imagined.
It was a Sunday, while the city was still asleep, I was preparing to leave. Little did I know that disaster was awaiting me around the corner.
Without much thought, I ran to the laundry to retrieve my clothes, without bringing my passport, phone, or money. "Just a few blocks away," I murmured. But fate had other plans.
In the quiet morning, a mysterious black sedan stopped in front of me. Two men emerged from the car, seemingly returning from a nightclub. In an instant, I was trapped inside their car, powerless to resist.
I tried to stay calm, refusing all their offers. However, my fear peaked when one of them attempted to touch me. Only the prayers of my parents kept me going.
When one of them left the room, I saw an opportunity to escape. With a heavy heart, I ran out, without a clear direction. But I remembered that my clothes were still in their car.
After struggling through fear and disbelief, I managed to escape and was found by tourists who called the local police. However, my story was not immediately believed, making me feel alienated and ignored.
In my head, unsettling shadows keep swirling. What if I have to return home without a single piece of clothing in my bag? What will my colleagues and sponsors think? What about the views of my professors and the university chancellor? My departure as a recipient of the internship scholarship has already been quite dramatic and surrounded by much opposition, especially because I am a woman and a Muslim.
However, despite my mind constantly churning through these possibilities, one question continues to haunt me: What are the consequences if I decide to seek justice for all of this? What will happen to the fate of my classmates in the future? What will become of this scholarship program if it's discontinued just because of what happened to me? I don't want to deprive them of their rights. At the very least, I am safe, but ironically, the reality isn't as simple as that.
Although my body was unharmed, the emotional wounds I suffered grew deeper. When I returned home, I felt like I had lost a part of myself. Nights turned into days, my sleep disturbed, and I withdrew further from the outside world.
I lost myself amidst university assignments and my inability to interact with others. Fear and trauma haunted every step I took, making me feel like the world was crumbling around me.
Every night, my body was shaken by seizures and tremors. Slowly, my ability to speak faded away. Even though I knew what I wanted to say, my voice remained silent. I could only cry in response when people asked me questions. It felt like the world was spinning aimlessly, and I could only watch in silent emptiness. I no longer recognized the faces of my classmates; they all disappeared from my memory along with their names.
Not only friends, but even my professors had abandoned me. They accused me of being arrogant and forgetful, without understanding how broken I was inside. It felt as if the whole world had turned away, leaving me alone in the darkness.
Only my mother continued to believe in me, even when the rest of the world rejected me. Eventually, I was taken to a psychiatrist, who concluded that my brain needed total rest and treatment. Desperate, I had to leave my studies, with only my thesis left to write, and give up my postgraduate scholarship, which meant so much to me. My dreams were shattered in an instant, my efforts to graduate as the youngest and best student had come to naught, but I tried to believe that recovery was the first step towards getting back on track, wasn't it?
....
© 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑧𝑎𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑐𝑎
It was a Sunday, while the city was still asleep, I was preparing to leave. Little did I know that disaster was awaiting me around the corner.
Without much thought, I ran to the laundry to retrieve my clothes, without bringing my passport, phone, or money. "Just a few blocks away," I murmured. But fate had other plans.
In the quiet morning, a mysterious black sedan stopped in front of me. Two men emerged from the car, seemingly returning from a nightclub. In an instant, I was trapped inside their car, powerless to resist.
I tried to stay calm, refusing all their offers. However, my fear peaked when one of them attempted to touch me. Only the prayers of my parents kept me going.
When one of them left the room, I saw an opportunity to escape. With a heavy heart, I ran out, without a clear direction. But I remembered that my clothes were still in their car.
After struggling through fear and disbelief, I managed to escape and was found by tourists who called the local police. However, my story was not immediately believed, making me feel alienated and ignored.
In my head, unsettling shadows keep swirling. What if I have to return home without a single piece of clothing in my bag? What will my colleagues and sponsors think? What about the views of my professors and the university chancellor? My departure as a recipient of the internship scholarship has already been quite dramatic and surrounded by much opposition, especially because I am a woman and a Muslim.
However, despite my mind constantly churning through these possibilities, one question continues to haunt me: What are the consequences if I decide to seek justice for all of this? What will happen to the fate of my classmates in the future? What will become of this scholarship program if it's discontinued just because of what happened to me? I don't want to deprive them of their rights. At the very least, I am safe, but ironically, the reality isn't as simple as that.
Although my body was unharmed, the emotional wounds I suffered grew deeper. When I returned home, I felt like I had lost a part of myself. Nights turned into days, my sleep disturbed, and I withdrew further from the outside world.
I lost myself amidst university assignments and my inability to interact with others. Fear and trauma haunted every step I took, making me feel like the world was crumbling around me.
Every night, my body was shaken by seizures and tremors. Slowly, my ability to speak faded away. Even though I knew what I wanted to say, my voice remained silent. I could only cry in response when people asked me questions. It felt like the world was spinning aimlessly, and I could only watch in silent emptiness. I no longer recognized the faces of my classmates; they all disappeared from my memory along with their names.
Not only friends, but even my professors had abandoned me. They accused me of being arrogant and forgetful, without understanding how broken I was inside. It felt as if the whole world had turned away, leaving me alone in the darkness.
Only my mother continued to believe in me, even when the rest of the world rejected me. Eventually, I was taken to a psychiatrist, who concluded that my brain needed total rest and treatment. Desperate, I had to leave my studies, with only my thesis left to write, and give up my postgraduate scholarship, which meant so much to me. My dreams were shattered in an instant, my efforts to graduate as the youngest and best student had come to naught, but I tried to believe that recovery was the first step towards getting back on track, wasn't it?
....
© 𝑠𝑡𝑎𝑛𝑧𝑎𝑤𝑖𝑐𝑐𝑎
