Ouch, she winced as his stubble brushed against her
pink-stained cheek and he roughly pushed her back into the bed as he got up.
Mishti opened her eyes, to find herself lying in an unknown room with her
clothes barely clinging on to her body. Her head hurt, heavy and intoxicated.
The
man’s fingernails had clawed deep into her arms and she saw the blue-black
marks, glaring as if she had just seen a ghost. Mishti had no clue what had
happened to her, but she knew her body hurt. She began wondering why, when she
heard the footsteps of the man, coming towards her. She hurriedly dressed up,
clueless about how she had been in this condition. Just then a man entered the
room, and came to her and slapped hard on her left cheek and called out, Slut,
you're such a Kid.
She
couldn't believe her ears- the words, the slap, the room and the stinging manly
smell. She looked at her reflection on a window pane. Bruised lips, nail marks
over her neck and bites on her shoulders and arms. Tears swelled up as she
tried hiding the marks. She turned back to look at the man who was behind her,
lighting another joint.
Her
bra torn and her kurta, shredded from the top- The man had raped her. What more was needed to prove
it. But was it all, his fault, she wondered. After
all, she was at his place. She had agreed to come over, he had had her consent. She tried remembering what
exactly had happened the night before, in disgust.
She
could faintly remember the cries, the pleads and the pain. But hadn’t she
agreed in the first place? She could now recall the tinkering of the beer
bottles, the flirts and her dupatta, as
he snatched it away.
She
could feel the excitement and the guilt trip she was having as he began kissing
her wildly on her lips. She hated the stinging smell of the cigarette and the
drink. She hated kissing a
person she did not know. . Karan, it had to be this way, wasn’t it? You were
the only person I ever wanted to kiss, to make love to. But, you left me, only when I
needed you the most. And the man, wild with passion now, tore into her
kurta and seized her body, like an untamed fire. She could see it, feel it
happen but could not stop him. Only Karan had touched her. Only he could.
But
what could she do, she had chosen this path.
Love
wasn't meant for her, she had accepted, hadn't she?
Tears just flowed across her face and she wiped them with her battered
dupatta. Mishti got up from the bed with great difficulty, her abdomen stabbed
with pain. She lifted her bag from the ground and left the room and felt the
sordid sunlight on her cold body. The physically anguish did not bother her
anymore, but her heart seemed to screech at her betrayal. She felt no more,
perhaps. Once bitten, twice shy.
Karan, look what you did to
me, she gasped. She had only wanted his love, his
touch. His caresses were now oblivious to the cold currents running down her
spine. I wish you could Love me again, like you did before. I wish I weren't
wasted. Why did you leave me like this?
She
walked towards her house. Her parents would be waiting for their daughter to
come and finish few odd jobs that she was yet to finish. Mishti covered the
marks with her Dupatta and wore her sunglasses and applied some more lipstick.
People greeted her and eyed her like a piece of flesh. . Even after she was
destroyed, perhaps it did not
show. . Or the world was too blind to see.
But
there were marks elsewhere, the claws of hatred and anguish had penetrated deep
and there was no looking back again. The damage had already been done.
Love... Bites.
