Unclutter, page 31
I was still panting and tried to catch my breath. “I told you I would be present for both the events, and here I am.”
I smoothed my yellow dress and adjusted the laces on my matching sneakers, thanking the stars that I didn’t decide to wear heels today. I brushed my hair with my fingers, looked at myself in my pocket mirror, and applied my lip balm.
“Is Madison’s group performing today?” Rory asked me. “They placed third in the entire country.”
I smiled proudly. “Not this time, but their dance group will be touring the country soon.”
“And she got her scholarship back,” Jai added.
My friends and I waited with bated breath for Soul to arrive on the stage, but due to technical sound issues, there was a delay in the schedule. In the background, their viral instrumental music played. I got up and stretched my arms and legs, exhausted from the day. In the morning, I had been summoned to fix SCF app issues when it crashed. The organizers had paid me three times the usual amount for solving the problem in less than three hours.
In the afternoon, I had stuffed myself at Ekon’s food truck and helped promote his culinary creations by wearing the mascot uniform. Now, I was here for the final event of the day: the musical performances. Had Soul not been performing, I would have called it a day.
I sat back in my seat and looked around. The auditorium was packed, with very few empty seats left. The sleek flat-screen TV played a slide show of all the main attractions at the fest this year. The television’s main purpose was to help the audience in the back get a closer glimpse of the performances. I noticed the technicians testing the spotlights for the Soul band members on stage and my chest swelled in pride. I couldn’t wait to see Amanda, Affy, and Yash glow in front of the audience like they truly deserved.
I yawned and browsed my phone to stay awake. On the squad group chat, Winona had posted photos of Ribster and Dexter, and I reacted with a hundred heart emojis. I smiled when I read the other messages, including AA’s and my usual banter and Nate’s congratulatory message for fixing the SCF app in record time.
As I was replying a “thank you” to Nate, I felt a tap on my shoulder.
“Tia,” Ekon whispered in my ear.
I pocketed my phone and turned to greet him with a hug. He looked dapper in a suit and was beaming.
“We are leading on the first day of the food truck wars.”
I whisper-squealed in delight and linked my arms with his. “Congrats, Eko.”
“Thanks. So what did I miss?” Ekon asked, intertwining my fingers in his.
I made a face. “Absolutely nothing. They have technical issues. I should have just come with you.”
Ekon smirked at me. “See, I told you. We could have been alone in my green room for some more time.”
I blushed and shoved my boyfriend playfully. “We would have arrived after Soul’s concert then.”
Ekon and I laughed at our private joke.
A few minutes later, the introduction speeches started, and I dozed off, leaning on Ekon’s shoulder. He nudged me gently when they finally introduced the band on stage. “Good evening, ladies and gentlemen. We apologize for the inconvenience caused by the delay today. Without further ado, we present the first band on stage today, by public demand. Soul!”
The auditorium erupted in thunderous applause as Amanda, Affy, and Yash appeared on stage. I got up from my seat and whistled, cheering for them.
Amanda started the performance with her melodious violin, and Yash accompanied her in rhythm with his dhol, while Affy played the guitar.
Affy announced on the microphone. “This is an ode to our bullies and abusers.” Then they started singing,
“You bullied us because you could
Because you thought we were weak
Because you thought we were too crude
Because you thought we were meek.”
Yash sang the next stanza.
“We put up with your abuse
And your games of power
Our silence you continued to misuse
Putting us through more torture.”
Both sang together,
“You think you can break us
You think you can make us bleed
You think you can wreck us
Oh no, you will not succeed.”
Affy continued,
“You emotionally manipulate
And threaten to keep us quiet
And should we dare to tattletale
You’ll be sure to cause a riot.”
Yash sang,
“The world adulates you
And no one will believe us
They will make a cry and hue
And call us pretentious.”
Together they sang the chorus.
“Well...
You think you can break us
You think you can make us bleed
You think you can wreck us
Oh no, you will not succeed
No, you will never succeed.”
By now, the crowd was in a frenzy, singing the chorus lines. My friends and I were bellowing at the top of our voices, though we couldn’t sing. The entire hall raised their hands into the air and waved to the music flashing their phones.
Affy continued,
“We may feel helpless
Because of your influence
But we are not hopeless
We have the power of confluence.”
Yash added,
“All of us fellow survivors
And others who stand by us
Will stand united together
And we will be matchless.”
They all sang the chorus.
“Everybody,
You think you can break us
You think you can make us bleed
You think you can wreck us
Oh no, you will not succeed
No, you will never succeed.”
They ended together.
“You will never never, never, never
Oh no, you will never ever succeed!”
There was thunderous applause from the audience. I was hooting and cheering, my chest bursting with pride.
The crowd chanted, “Once more, once more, once more.”
Affy yelled into the microphone. “Before we perform again, can we request that Tiara Lauren come on stage, please? We wouldn’t have been here today without her.”
I felt my face going hot from embarrassment. I sat rooted to my seat, but Amanda came to summon me, and I blindly followed her.
Hesitantly, I stood next to Affy, feeling awkward about the spotlight being on me, and they started singing again. I just stood there, grinning from ear to ear like an idiot, as the audience applauded.
When the performance was over, the audience gave Soul a standing ovation, and my eyes welled up. This song was a tribute to every abuse survivor in this world—for our strength to bear the pain, our strife to overcome the trauma and move on, and our courage not to let the unfortunate incident define our lives.
I had won the battle against abuse.
Now, I declared war on my abusers—their time is up.
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Acknowledgments
Whew! After seven long years, I can’t believe I have finally completed Unclutter: A survivor’s story. I never ever thought that this book would be available to everyone someday when I conceptualized it more than a decade ago when the #meToo and #timesUp movements began. I was inspired by all the people who came out with their shocking stories after suffering alone for so many years. It was heartening to see thousands of survivors worldwide supporting one another. Instead of talking about my personal experiences and those of my friends, I decided to write a book as a tribute to these movements, and thus, Unclutter was born.
I have rewritten this story hundreds of times in the last seven years. And finally, it’s at a stage where I’m ready to show it to the world. I’m grateful to so many people for helping me come this far. First and foremost, I would like to thank my mother, without whom this book would not have seen the light of day. Thank you, Amma, for not letting me delete this story and encouraging me to keep going whenever I wanted to give up. I dedicate this novel, and all my future works to you. But that’s insufficient to compensate for your unconditional love and belief in me. I would not have been a writer without you.
Thank you so much, Shannon Cave, my awesome editor, for helping me shape my manuscript into one I’m proud of. I’m mesmerized by your attention to detail, professionalism, and clarity of thought. I can’t thank you enough for your incredibly valuable feedback, which will help me in my future work. If not for you, I would not have had the confidence to publish this story at all. So, thank you for believing in my vision for Unclutter.
Thanks a lot, Laura Boyle, my amazing designer, for bringing my book alive. I love the cover and the interior design, and it’s exactly how I’d dreamed about it. I can’t stop raving about how well the fonts and layout match the theme and mood of my book. They speak to my readers as much as my words do. Thanks for being flexible and rescheduling our collaboration multiple times when I needed more time to work on my manuscript.
Thank you so much, Michele, my brilliant photographer, for making me feel gorgeous. I was a nervous wreck when I entered your studio, but you made me feel at ease within minutes. I felt vulnerable putting my face out there for the world to see, but I’m extremely pleased with the result. You truly are one of the best headshot photographers in the city.
Thank you, Kankana Basu, my first editor, for helping me build a strong foundation for my novel. I’m extremely grateful to you for helping me with the eye-catching summary for Unclutter. I simply love it. I would not have come this far as an author without all your help.
Thanks, Reedsy, for having such fantastic professional editors and designers who are excellent at their work. And thank you for being so approachable whenever I needed to contact one of you for any help. You all are simply fabulous.
Before deciding to publish it, an initial version of my book was available on a free writing platform publicly. I’m grateful to all my first readers for their honest feedback. I was encouraged to continue when some of them commented on how well I handled the sensitive topic of abuse. However, some of the comments were also critical, which I appreciate. Particularly, I thank the person who pointed out that all my characters look the same. Thanks to them, my characters are (and will always be) of diverse backgrounds and cultures, just like those around me.
I earned some friends on this platform who’ve helped me through my journey as an author.
Thank you, Fera, for being my very first reader. If not for you, I would have taken my book off the internet.
Thank you, Naz, for being a wonderful friend, fellow author, and the best beta reader I could ever ask for. Your reviews and feedback will always remain priceless to me. I cherish the memories of our late-night conversations, some of which have made it to this book. Thank you for always cheering me on.
Thank you, Kayla, for your encouragement and helping me spread the word about my book. Your awesome writing and marketing skills always inspire me.
Thank you, Telaya Jackson, for believing in me and reading my book every time I changed the story.
Seven years is a long time to work on a project. And it was impossible to complete it without the most important people in my life: my family and friends. They let me ramble on about my writing, and I’m guilty of sometimes making them bored.
Thank you, my dearest husband, the love of my life, for being so supportive and understanding during this journey. Thank you, my most beloved Annu, for being the best father on earth. You know my lovable male protagonists are inspired by both of you.
Thank you, my darling daughter, for being the best thing that ever happened to me.
Thanks so much to all my other readers and friends: Meghna, Andrea, Pat, Divya, and Anshu, for always being there.
And most importantly, a huge thank you to YOU, my reader, for choosing my book. It means the world to me. I hope you enjoyed reading it as much as I did writing it. I would be extremely grateful if you could write a review and let me know your thoughts. You can also reach out to me on my website, winnzwordz.com.
About the Author
Winnie D Pagora loves three things the most in her life: her family, her tech profession, and stories. Her fascination with stories started as a mere toddler when her mother read to her, and she began making up her own when she could barely read or write. She was just six when her article first got published in a leading children’s newspaper in India. Since then, she has dreamed of writing a book, and Unclutter: A survivor’s story is her debut novel. Other than reading and writing, Winnie’s interests include travel, wildlife, and global cuisines. She currently lives in Canada with her husband and her daughter.
Winnie D Pagora, Unclutter
