The Acerbic Of Me.....

Amarillo companeros!

So following is a part of Ruhani's Mindblowing May.

"Oh dear! Whatever had happened to you?! When was this?"

"Ummm, this is before I married Doug. It happened while cooking."

I've been giving the standard riposte all my life. Initially I was offended a great deal. But now it was a sacrament for me. Slouching to everyone makes me overlook the truth. I live that day everyday in my dream. Every moment from that night is as vividly clear in my mind as crystal. When I hear him bellow and abuse her, it's like I can say it under my breath in perfect adroitness with his words. I shriek in my sleep at times as if my  sweet strawberry like waft and palate of my skin was again baked to tart and caustic. 

"Dintcha I tell you to not go to work, Cunt? You wantcha leave me, huh! Nobody leaves me, you whore!", his trouncing increasing with each invective which ever escaped his mouth.

"I can't just sit here and do nothing. My daughter ought to have a secure future. Why do you care?!", another hard blow to her palpable exterior. 

"Your daughter do this same thinga I make you do! I make her a star one day. I'll get her little fanny running! She'll do mucha better. I make her star on the internet. She be more famous than you."

"I'll never let you touch my daughter. Never! She'll not become what you turned me into under the veil of your false marriage proposal."

And another hard blow. I could perpetually hear her screech with terror. She called out, but there was nobody to pull her out of this mess. "You trya runnin'. I teacha lesson. I Carlo Bonnatti. Bonnatti. Nobody leave me!" And another and another. 

It was only so much a woman could endure. 

He ran into my room; I didn't like that look on his face one bit. I knew what was he going to do. He set the camera on the tripod in front of the bed. I couldn't call out for help, or my mother. I knew he'd bashed her bad enough for her to even try lifting her battered, bloody head. I secluded into a corner and pressed my knees hard into my chest. He tried pulling me out of the wardrobe. I retaliated with every fibre in my being. But his strong hands caught the better of me. He threw me on the bed like a dead body over the bridge. I punched, kicked, bit, screamed - no one came. I could only hear the anguish cries of my mother and feel every bone in her ankle crackle more than that bastard already had, in the wake of saving me. I saw him taking off his attire. He had a gun holster hoisted over his shoulder. 
"You playa now, or I rape Mommy dear."
"Get away from me!" "Uh uh. No escape Daddycool. You mucha more beauty than your mother."
"NO", I cried. I went blank with that smash on my face and could feel the red, salty liquid in my mouth. 
"You no listen. I go to Mommy dear."
"NO", and he pointed a gun right to my temple as I urged to go save my mother. He planted his hands another four times, with a power seeing which a horse would die of shame. He tore away her clothes yet again. That sly creature never let her wear anything inside the house. My mother screeched out of pain yet again. 
"You see. You see."
"I'll do gentle. You have no pain."
I retorted constantly. He threatened to burn my mother with the acid. I was rendered helpless. I unwillingly did everything he said. He took me with a groan I grew to fear more than anything in my life - and then I felt the stickiness of the blood as it cascaded my weak thighs, and eventually all over my bed. I was thrown on the verge of death because of the pills he stuffed into my battered mouth each day. But I held on - for my mother. After months of eating every bitter pie of the torment, I sloshed him to the ground one day. He ran towards the acid, and threw it towards my mother. I walled the path between the acid and my mother's face. 
The only thing succeeding it I remember is my skin vanishing into air as fumes and gun shots one after the other. One. Two. Three. 


My mother was let loose on account of self-defence.
The socialites only gave me their condolences. The entire nation empathised, but no one rose even a finger to pass on a cent for any surgeries. I did not mind that face; it kept people from recognising me as the girl from the longest porn film on the internet. I wanted to get past those memories. I was only fourteen when he took every integrity of my being away and sliced  it into fine pieces. And perhaps she thought, it was best to keep shut. This was until Doug came along, and I was reborn. 


"What happened? Where are you lost?"
"Uh, nothing! Just something I stuck up with."


Sorry companeros, but I've been reading/watching all such sorts of stories about women abuse. It's disheartening to see how these men manage to consider those little girls less than human; and this simply makes them even more despicable. They're ripped off their self-esteem and confidence and many of them isolate themselves to prostitution and take brothels to be their rehab. Recently I read about a handicapped girl whose own FATHER, without the knowledge of his wife, traded her for mere two thousand rupees, ad she was pushed into the cauldron of prostitution. On being helped out by a socialite, she refused to back to her village stating that she felt more at home in the brothel than she ever did with her own parents. I'm searching a suitable rehab or an orphanage which supports the cause; I urge you to do it too. That little girl out there is a part of yet another molested woman. 


See you companeros.
Tener cuidado.