Chapter 6

A truck hits me at full speed.

Tears start falling out my eyes like a waterfall. I can’t believe it happened. I can’t believe I did this!

Ravi is the most disgusting vile person I have ever known. This fat pig harasses and bullies boys, girls and even teachers. He is a monster. He has been harassing me since last week. He brought me here to rape me. He raped me.

But I liked it. My body stopped fighting and instead helped him violate me, violate my modesty and take my dignity. I hate my body. I hate myself. I genuinely hate Ravi. I hate everything.

I should have killed myself. Everyone would have been happy. I would have died in peace.

Instead, I sat on his bike and let him bring me here. I have lost everything. He has taken my honour, my dignity. And I was grabbing onto him while he was destroying my honour.

I feel ashamed, I feel angry, I feel disgusted at myself. Somehow, I feel the pain, it’s not in my mind, I can feel the pain physically, taste it in my mouth and my gut. I can taste my disgust over the slut, the whore who just let Ravi fuck her. And she had orgasms. She fucking orgasmed, multiple times from her own fucking rapist.

I keep crying. I can hear him, the most disgusting person, my rapist, panting beside me.

He grabs me, I try to slip but he turns me to face him.

His evil grin back mixed with his triumphant cocky expression.

“Stop your drama. You liked it slut ... You screamed like a whore! The way your whole body shook...” He says with cocky confidence as he lightly flicks my nipple. Disgustingly, it instantly hardens as soon as his fingers touch it. I push his hand away but he grabs my hand and pulls me into his arms, into a hug.

I don’t have enough strength to fight him. What’s the point? I can feel his semen trickling down from inbetween my legs. He has already taken everything he wanted. And my disgusting filthy body helped it, enjoyed it when he was violating me. It is enjoying the embrace now; it is enjoying feeling his soft member on my stomach.

With one hand wrapped around me, keeping in place, while looking at my chest, he cups my breast and exclaims, “These balloons are so fucking big ... they can probably hold buckets of milk ... you know what we should do? ... take the biggest fattest cow, with the biggest teats in the town and have a milking contest ... I bet you win”.

He laughs and gives a light slap on my breast and goes back to lightly squeezing it, and flicking my hard nipples.

I just let him do it while I quietly weep at how joking and sexualising my breasts, making fun of me, is exciting me.

He traces his hand on my waist.

“Oh my God!...”, he says slowly through grinding teeth and then he lets go of me. I look curiously at what he is doing.

He reaches and grabs his phone that I just realised he had kept on a stack of hay. It was recording everything that he did, that I did.

Suddenly a huge brick falls inside my stomach. Sorrow overwhelms me again.

Why did I not kill myself?

I would have died then, and everyone would have been happy.

Now he can abuse me, hurt, hurt my family even if I kill myself. I can’t imagine what will my father do, or what my mother will do if they see this. What will they do if I am dead then? What will they do when they know that their dead daughter first destroyed the family’s honour? I know my father. He will curse me; he will curse his dead daughter. He will burn my stuff, delete my pictures do everything possible to forget that I ever existed, that he had a daughter.

He points the camera at my waist and then the flash goes off. He places the phone back on the stack with the camera pointed at us.

He traces his fingers on my waist and speaks. “Just look at the fucking curve! She is just made to be a fuckdoll ... a filthy fucking sextoy!”

Even in utter sadness, in between my legs, it tingles as my body feels his touch, as I hear him describe me as a “fuckdoll”.

“Do all the bitches in your family have tits like these?”, He asks and gives a hard squeeze. I don’t reply, I keep weeping. He hits my breast, his palm right on my nipple.

My body likes the pain, it likes the ache that is left after the slap.

“I asked you a question!”, he exclaims with his cocky smile.