1000 words of Unspoken Rape

1000 Words of Unspoken Rape

The night was darkest among all other darker nights, It was a monster night, so I thought at that moment .
He had his hand holding me down, grabbing me by places not even my hand goes, touching and dragging his fingerprints all over my skin, his rough lips creating a map in my body where I would lose myself everyday and every night for rest of my life, reminding and thinking of today, so I would lose trust from nights and darkness, I would lose trust from any other fingers, of my brother, friends, uncles or father,
I could not breathe the air out, it was stuck, my heart beat screaming out the ” No, please No. Help!”. I could not utter, his hands were rough and strong enough to break my self-love, self-trust, self-confidence, self-care and the healing power of my mind. I was held down, an unknown body forcing me down, hands like a rope tied around me, I could feel his breath like tons and tons of forced air towards my body, I can still see his eyes, every night I look at the corner, I can see those eyes, a dead stare like he is hungry and I’m his flesh, I still cover my body everyday to bed, and if a small part of me is open to air outside I still panic and pull my sheets up. I still live like the same night and he still lives with the same smile like he left with that very night.
The morning of that very day, he walked out with a smile in his face, and I shook my head like a slave, I was all in pain, my body aching to hell and heart breaking with pain , it was right opposite to a day before how I was innocent, out of care for how the world runs, joy and happiness was my armor, love was a toffee I gave to every other, no caste, no gender, no colour, nothing. All a day before.
I was betrayed, I was betrayed by my innocence, innocence or should I say trust I had for humans, left with bruises, scars, pain, that very human thing inside was broken, softness, love, care, everything else that is supposed to be good is broken, now I am aware 24×7 when I’m in a bus, a taxi, a bench, the bed, the streets. I can sense a very small movements of fingers around places I sit, I can always and easily feel a moving hand towards me, doesn’t matter if it is of friendly hug or hand shake or high five, I can feel it before they make it.
That very night after he walked out wearing a smile and I was left behind with a broken body, with a sense of hiding all the pain when I stood up, I just was on my half bending legs cause a proper stand up was not what my strength was capable of, I walked out with a dead walk, I was dragging myself, this was a very first time I was murdered by my very own that lived in my so called very home.
But was it the last time?

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