NOTE: This story is complete fiction and not meant to offend anyone, nor is it an endorsement of rape.
He stepped into the house and picked up his mail. A familiar handwriting caught his eyes since the computers had come into existence seldom would one find a handwritten letter. As he slit open the envelope, his wife walked in carrying two cups of sweetened ginger milk tea, and cheese sandwiches.
‘Hey hun, how was your day’ she asked as she kept the tray on the dining table. The handwriting on the letter haunted him.
‘Just the usual’ he mumbled, as he gave his wife a gentle kiss on her forehead.
He took his mail along with the cup of tea and entered his study. Half an hour later he was still standing at the door tears in his eyes.
The letter began like a conversation, no greetings, just words…………….
“We had spent a large part of our childhood and teenage years together. It amazes me we never dated, but we had our intimate moments that left us dizzy and flushed.
I look back upon the day you proposed with a hibiscus in hand and the clichéd words “Will you be mine” it was tacky but I fell for it and do so every time I think about it.
Do you know what happened that July afternoon. A ‘family get together’ you told me, and I had to be there to represent ‘us’ for you were out of the city on business. Everyone was on the terrace, I came downstairs for some fresh air and peace of mind to free myself from all the bitchiness.
Your brother made his way into the house he was not alone two of his friends accompanied him, all intoxicated and stoned and whatever else they were doing.
HE and his friends forced themselves on me, with two of them holding my arms. They all smiled at me, well, in actuality they leered at me.
I tried to scream, but a hand covered my mouth. They dragged and threw me on the bed. I pleaded with them not to do this, but my pleas fell on deaf ears. They held my arms and took my clothes off; I tried to push them away, but they kept hushing me, kept holding me down, their hands and mouths all over me, taking my clothes off while they were undressing themselves too, it was chaotic.
These half naked men held me down on the bed, one man on either side, pulling my legs apart, holding my hands and arms.
Your brothers intentions were clear he had one purpose in mind violating me. When he forced himself into me, my vaginal muscles stretched all the way to accommodate him. I could feel a burning sensation inside of me which was increasing with every thrust. Since I was being smooched or rather bitten by another, I could not even weep as he thrusted violently into me. He was rough, my anguish and their resentment towards me aroused them further.
I did all I could do with the power I had at that point of time but they were powerful. They were all over me and I had almost given up. I stopped, tried to relax, maybe it would make it easier.
I tried to keep track of how many times I was violated but could not. I was like a trapped animal; I looked around and all I could see was partially or fully naked men with hard puckers which was crimson with my blood.
I don’t think there was an inch of my body that did not have a bruise or a bite mark on it. When one got done another was waiting to take his place.
By now I was slipping in and out of consciousness. I don’t know how long I was out each time, but they kept going. I would awaken and find two of them thrusting me violently from both the sides while another filled my mouth.
I wondered that if I died would they keep it up, was necrophilia they’re thing. I had to live; I had to be physically and mentally strong. So I detached myself. All I thought was that they could take my body, but I would not let them take my soul. I did not feel a thing. It felt like an outer-body experience. It seemed as if I stepped out of my body and was watching them violate me, not able to do anything about it.
After successfully vanquishing me, they gave my limp body a wash, washing off all the their indications, then pushing me back on the bed they went away leaving me bruised and sobbing.
When I woke up after a couple of hours, I got dressed and went home and fell off to a disturbed but long sleep.
On waking up the next day I was alone, scared and miserable I tried calling you several times only to receive an iMessage from you saying you didn’t want to stay in touch. What a fucking bastard you turned out to be, compelling me to believe you orchestrated the entire thing.
You must think why now when I had been silent for nine long years.
I needed to say goodbye to you, after having spent nine years with your ghost that has walked, slept, eaten and lived between my husband and me. I have realized that your intrusive presence has been there because I don’t want to let go of you. The man whom I loved for years, the man who deserted me, and the man whom I lived for has to be buried six feet under.
It took me an excruciating nine years to erase every single memory I had of you. Every touch of your hand, the way you looked at me, your smile, your sense of humour, you sitting pressed up against me in the taxi. Those were my moments of hell after you left.
The past with you worries me, I can’t be dragged back into time. I have finally settled down, Good job, great husband I finally feel successful, you represent failure to me.
I wanted to be with you, and suddenly all the bitterness has gone away and I want to be with you again. I am no longer in love with you, but I think I still love you. Is that even possible? I want to hold you and maybe make you laugh and maybe truly laugh myself for the first time in nine years. I love my husband a lot. He has made me a better person. He is accomplished and we’re content. He is the sole reason I am living again and all I want to do is be with you right now.”
And the letter ended just like that, disgusted with himself, he scrunched up the letter and threw it in the wastepaper basket, and he took a sip of tea which was already cold, then he went to the waste paper basket, picked up the letter, smoothed it out carefully, folded it and inserted it into his wallet.