Chapter 10: Home Sweet Home

From the back seat of his bike, I see the village rapidly coming up in front of us. Suddenly I am gripped with fear. What if someone sees me with him in the night? What if someone recognises me?

I plunge my face into his back to hide it.

He laughs.

Obviously, nothing will happen to him. I shudder to think what will happen to me and my family.

The fear is overwhelming. I am more scared of getting discovered like this than my own actual death. I start praying, praying to all the deities to not let anyone see us.

Ravi stops his bike behind our house. I don’t even think, I climb down as soon as the bike stops and start sneakily walking towards my bedroom window.

Until I climbed back into my room, I didn’t think it was possible to get back here unnoticed. I take a huge sigh of relief.

I look at my room with happiness, I look at the familiar bed, the familiar door, the beautiful closet, my books, mirror...

I suddenly hear a loud drum beat in my head. I barely recognise the person standing in my room. As the person starts walking closer to the mirror, I start seeing more and more of her. She is crying silently through her puffy eyes and red nose. Her hair is completely dishevelled and her face, her hands, and anywhere I look closely are covered in bruises. I find the biggest one of them. A straight big red imprint of rope is burning her neck.

This was a room of a good girl who loved her studies and her parents. She was obedient and never did anything to hurt them. She was so innocent. She used to sneakily watch kissing scenes in the movies. Not the vulgar ones either. She liked where the both of them slowly come closer, wait, look shyly and slowly lean forward for a tender kiss. A lot of times the heroine would lift her leg.

I was not kissed like that. I was raped! Raped by the vilest monster that I know. I suddenly realise I am wearing his shirt. Immediately I unbutton it and throw it below my bed in disgust. And when I look back into the mirror, I see the destruction again.

I have been soiled. I have been irreparably damaged. He has stolen my honour, my dignity, the most precious thing from me. I feel disgusted. I start shaking and weeping at my loss.

I walk into the shower and turn on the tap. I sit on the floor, crying and shaking while I let the shower wash away the filth from my body. But I know it will never be enough. I touch my neck. It’s still burning, it’s still aching in pain. It will heal.

I will never heal. I will never be the girl who left the house hours ago. She had never been violated. Neither of her offices had been pierced.

But most disgustingly, my body betrayed me. It liked what was happening. My body let him. It let him hit me, choke me, violate me and it liked it. It held on to him. It moved to match his rhythm. I remember my disgusting moans of pleasure. I liked it more than anything. It liked the pain; it liked the filthy semen.

I remember; the stains, the filthy stains of his semen.

I remember the places where his semen fell, where they puddled. I start rubbing those places in the water. I rub my lips, my chin, my chest, my breasts...

I am forcing myself not to feel it. I’m pretending that my nipples are not hardening. I keep crying. Denying it is happening.

My fingers start travelling towards my nipples even though semen didn’t fall there.

It might have. There is nothing wrong with cleaning it too.

My fingers start rubbing the hard nipples under the water. They rub it harder than they rubbed my chin or chest. They continue to rub harder and harder.

I don’t know when but I have started pinching the nipples.

There is no ignoring it now. In between my legs, it has begun to leak and throb. It needs attention.

No! I am not going to do it. I will not give in to these filthy urges.

I can feel the lust fogging my brain, the uncomfortable hunger spread across my body. My hands have started groping my breasts, twisting my nipples and my mouth has started moaning.

He did ejaculate inside me. I need to clean it. I need to thoroughly clean it in-between my legs.

I pretend it’s not an excuse to touch myself. I start “cleaning” myself between my legs. I start rubbing it in the water.

Frustratingly it doesn’t feel as satisfying as I expected.

I push one finger into myself and start pushing it in and out of me. It doesn’t feel ... It feels like something is off, something is missing. It’s like eating a wonderful dish without salt. Something just doesn’t feel good enough.

I try with two fingers. It doesn’t work. Why doesn’t it work? When he was doing...

As soon as I picture Ravi, I feel something happening, something pleasant happening between my legs. So, I close my eyes and picture him, picture his disgusting face, I try to remember his cocky laughs, his rude name calls. They keep heating me, pushing me closer and closer to finishing.

I remember how he hit me. I hit myself on my face. The pain feels excites me. I keep hitting myself as I shove two fingers in and out of me.

Stop! No. He is disgusting. He is vile. He is a rapist and murderer. He is a monster!

Think of something else. I try to remember my favourite actor, his six-pack abs, his beautiful eyes, his gorgeous smile...

I feel my body starting to cool down!

Ravi! I start imagining him again. I remember his disgusting belly, his cruel laughs.

I spread my legs and let the shower directly fall in between my legs. I continue to finger myself and maul my breast. It’s still not anywhere as good or as satisfying. But my body needs release I continue to fuck myself.

I think how good it felt when he was on top of me when he grabbed me and pulled me into the house by my hair, I remember his cruel laugh, his punches...

I bite my teeth as an orgasm hits my body. I realize I didn’t need to. It was barely anything, nothing compared to the orgasms I had earlier. I still have most of the sexual tension swirling frustratingly in my body. I can feel it throbbing in between my legs.

It’s so late. I am exhausted physically and emotionally. I am more tired than I have ever been. I am ashamed, sad and guilty. I just need the day to end. I need to sleep.

I turn off the shower and walk out of the bathroom. I dry myself, wear my pyjamas and get on the bed. I try to sleep. But my body feels restless. In between my legs, it keeps throbbing.

I shove my hand inside my pants and start rubbing and fucking myself again. But it doesn’t feel good. I try to imagine Ravi and keep shoving my fingers in and out of me.

After some time, I orgasm again but it barely helps.

“What do you want!”, I scream at my body in my mind. Please let me sleep. I start crying out of frustration and restlessness. I am so tired, completely exhausted. I still can’t go to sleep!

I keep rubbing myself and begging myself to sleep.

Suddenly I am awakened by loud rings from my phone. My whole body is covered in sweat. I feel restless, tensed and frustrated.

I vaguely remember what I dreamed. Ravi kept raping me, again and again. He is also hurting me. He choked, strangled, hanged, and stabbed me while he continued to laugh and rape me. I died so many times. But every time, just before my death, I had the most wonderful, most powerful explosion shaking my whole body.

I check the phone and my heart jumps to happiness when I see the name.

I answer the call with one hand sliding the other in between my legs. I start to gently rub myself.

Ravi: What the fuck took you so long?

His angry voice sends a bolt of fear down my spine. I remember him hitting me, punching me, choking me and hanging me on the noose. But somehow, I am suddenly wet. I push two fingers into me and they feel better than they ever felt last night.

Me: I just woke up.

I can feel my lust spreading over me, waking every tissue of my body. I can feel my nipples throbbing for attention. I remember him pinching my nipples, twisting them, pulling them, licking them, biting them. My nipples need attention right now.

Ravi: Why the fuck so late? I am already fucking hard!

Oh my god! I place the phone on the pillow and rest my head on it so that I can continue to talk with him without using my hands. With one hand I start mauling my breasts, twisting my nipples and continue to thrust two fingers of the other hand in and out of my very wet tunnel.

Ravi: I asked you fucking question bitch? Do you always wake up this fucking late?

Me: No.

I pray that he asks me why. I am fingering myself like a machine. This feels so much better.

Ravi: Then why the fuck did you wake up late today?

Me: I couldn’t sleep.

Please ask why. Please force me to tell you. Please make me humiliate myself! I force myself not to moan.

Ravi: Why couldn’t you sleep, my princess?

His voice is more sarcastic, more teasing yet still very angry.

I could tell him, I was restless. It is technically true. He will probably understand that I was processing my rape. But...

Me: I was frustrated. I was restless. You didn’t ... The last time ... you made me suck, used my breasts ... But you didn’t make me ... you didn’t touch me. I tried to by myself ... I couldn’t satisfy myself. I tried so many times, I couldn’t.

I know I could have lied or hidden something. But I want him to know. I want him to humiliate me, tease me and use this as ammunition to do whatever he wants with me and my body.