A raped soul

A raped soul

A young prostitute fells in love with her customer.


Romance / Women's fiction


Muhammad Ali Naeem (Pakistan)

It was a Saturday night. A young burly man came to my door asking for my “services”. I was a bit tired after becoming a piece of meat to different cannibals. He slammed the door and sat on the chair next to my bed. He looked into my eyes and asked me the reason of choosing this filthy profession. The answer was clear in the tears sprinting across my rosy cheeks. But how could I explain, the first time when the man forced me in his bed when my mother was on death bed. How can I possibly explain the lust in the eyes of those gentlemen who kept my mother alive for years? My silence was howling those million incidents that made me the person I am. He didn’t force me to answer. His second question smacked right across my soul. He asked me “Are you happy?” again a million thoughts murmured in my brain. But I ignored this question and asked him to do whatever he wants and leave. He did so but I wasn’t able to sleep a single minute that night, thinking about the very questions he asked me. I spent my whole day mourning inside my head.
At 8 pm sharp someone started to bang my door. I rushed to open it and boom that was the same person from the last night with a bouquet of roses in his hand. And he gently said “For you.” It was the first time after death of my mother someone brought flowers for me. I wasn’t sure either to accept it or not. But he insisted to do so. He was very talkative and inquisitive. But most of his questions were stashed inside my head. He started to visit daily. We spend whole nights talking. He bought me food, gifts and flowers. I wasn’t sure about the things that were happening. I wasn’t sure about the relationship among us but the connection was surprising.
This imprudent girl fell for that guy. That sturdy young guy was making a deep impact on me. I started to laugh and find happiness in things. And after a long time I started dreaming. I was dreaming about my future. Now the question he asked me the first night was answerable. Yes I was happy. A teenager who was left alone in this wilderness was feeling happy. The way his hands run through my hair and the way he made me laugh was new to me.
One Sunday I woke up and turned around to feel the warmth of him but he was not there. It wasn’t the first time I was abandoned in bed by men but this was different. This was the first time I felt different. In a time spam of 3 weeks I was way closer to him than I was to me in my entire life. I planned to discuss my feelings with him. I was also terrified of his response. I wasn’t sure about his feelings. But if he wasn’t into me why would he prefer to spend these frosty nights in a prostitute’s den. I dressed up in a red dress, put makeup on my face, wore the best shoes I had and perfumed my room with a decent scent. He didn’t show up. Why should he? He didn’t know about my arrangements. I waited for him for hours. At last he slammed my door at midnight and came straight to me. He wasn’t looking good. He was drunk and happy. I managed to hold my gut tight and straight forwardly I mumbled my feelings.
He looked at my face quite astonishingly and laughed. But his three words shuttered each and every part of my soul. “You’re a whore”. He told me he was married and was here just because he had a flight with his wife and now things were okay so he didn’t need me anymore. He threw away the lamp lying on the side table for years and rightly said that “I am a clean and a respectable man and you are a whore. How can you imagine us being together? You should not forget your mucky past.” And he left. I never saw him again. I started to question myself, my faiths and my beliefs. He left me sobbing because of my past. It took months to recover from this so called “heart break”.
The only thing I learnt from this incident was that nothing is going to change my future. Because of the past I have chosen to survive in this ugly gathering of people we call “society”. Now I am just a whore without any feelings and I have to life this way.

Competition: Friendly feedback, Round 1



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