My Mother Hired a Hitman to Kill Me

From the Daily Mail:

The text message forwarded to me from my younger sister Saira was concise and chilling: 'Mum's sent a hit man to kill you,' it read. 'Be careful.' ... I'd been in hiding for several weeks when I received the text ... 

I was ... brought up in a devout Muslim family ... My father (Zammurrad Hayat) ... was a deeply religious man but violent towards my mother Surriya and my sisters ... As I grew older, my father started placing increasingly severe restrictions on my life. I was forbidden from making friends with other children and lived a very lonely existence ... my father grew more aggressive towards my mother and sisters, regularly throwing plates and knives at us in anger ... My brothers ... were allowed to do as they pleased, but my sisters and I were told that Muslim girls were like a white sheet; once stained, forever ruined ... 

If ever I returned home even five minutes late from the park or school, my father would hit me with his belt, often until I bled ... My father broke a branch from a tree, stripped off all the leaves and started whipping me with it in broad daylight ... Incredibly, the rest of my family stood there and did nothing ... 

Even when I'd been sexually abused by a male relative as a young teenager, instead of supporting me my parents blamed me for accepting presents from him and accused me of lying ... 

When I was 13, I was flown to Pakistan to meet my 14-year-old cousin, who I was told I would marry when I turned 18 ... As soon as he saw me, he said I was too ugly to marry and rejected me in favour of my 12-year-old sister Saira. They married six years later ... at the age of 18, 

I started a Biology and Management degree at Sussex University and moved into student accommodation in a square near the old pier in Brighton ... I was living away from home, enjoying the independence ... as I returned to my flat at about 3am someone pulled the door open as I shut it ...'You're coming home with me now. I'm taking you away from this lifestyle' (said) my mother. I told her I wasn't going anywhere and she started screaming at me ... my 15-year-old brother ... appeared from behind her brandishing a kitchen knife ... 

My mother had once said 'If anyone dishonours this family, first I will kill them and then kill myself', so I knew that she too was serious ... I got into the car and (was taken) back in Kent ... I was marched into the cellar, which had been turned into a makeshift bedroom, and my brother stood in the doorway holding the knife ... My mother calmly said: 'From now on, we're going to look after you and you're going to do what we say.' ... my father was abroad at the time ... 

For several weeks I lived in that cellar. My meals were brought to me and I was accompanied to the toilet ... I was allowed no communication with the outside world ... I pleaded with my mother to let me return to my old job at the local supermarket ... Eventually, she agreed, provided I was escorted to and from work ...

I confided in a colleague, Graham, about what was happening at home ... Horrified, he offered to help me escape ... My family had me under close surveillance, but I sneaked out ... and jumped into the back of Graham's car and lay flat on the floor, out of sight. All I had with me were the clothes I was wearing and nothing else. But I didn't care - I was getting away ... I was terrified. 

Graham immediately drove me to another friend's house ... where I laid low, too scared even to leave the house. That's how I remained for the next month ... I didn't contact the police at this stage. The truth was, I was too embarrassed and confused to tell them that my own family were trying to kidnap me ... 

Then my sister forwarded my mother's fateful text message and I felt more alone than ever ... I managed to summon up the energy to report the text to Hove police, who were amazing ...The police gave me an emergency number to contact should I receive any more threats and for two months I heard nothing ... 

Then my old flatmate called, saying that my mum had phoned, desperate to speak to me as my father had suffered a heart attack. Despite everything that had happened, I called my mum to ask about my father ... She assured me she wouldn't try to kidnap me again, but needed to talk. 

We arranged to meet in a public place in Brighton, with the police watching ... my mother said she wasn't going to harm me or take me away, but it quickly transpired that my dad hadn't had a heart attack at all. Istead, my mother wanted to make one final appeal to me to give up my performing and my lifestyle ... get married, and live a respectable Muslim life ... I flatly refused ... 'Fine,' she said, coldly. 'From now on you're dead in our eyes and I don't want to see you again.' ... 

And that's exactly what happened for the next ten years ... despite everything that has happened, I don't blame my parents for what they've put me through ... I blame the fact that Islam has become so distorted and warped. I don't believe that the Muslim religion condones any sort of violence; Islam literally means 'peace' ... If only people would actually read the Koran for themselves, they would see the love and peace it radiates and the equality among men and women it promotes. If only my parents had been able to give me that kind of love.

Right. The Krayon doesn't condone any violence. Even a woman who has gone through all of that can't accept the truth.

Amazing.