She decided to damn the world.
“Are you sure you are ready for this, you can have more time if you want?” The woman from the state ministry of women affairs asked.
“I am,” she said holding her hands together so she could feel warm and get support.
“The recording would start immediately and so many persons would see this, know you and hear your story, are you sure you are ready for this to happen?” she said gravely trying to make her understand the gravity of what is about to happen and what will happen after she speaks. More time could be granted if she reconsiders.
“I am,” she repeated quietly.
Where her strength came from she wouldn’t know. All she knows is that she woke up from the wrong side of her bed that morning, she wasn’t thinking when she left the house through her room’s window, because the main door would still be locked by then, she wasn’t also thinking when she trekked the distance to the development center immediately daylight came.
Wearing her slippers would make her go out through the main hall and opening the door would wake someone up, so she decided to wear the only good shoe in her room which is her church shoe; a wedge-heeled shoe.
She didn’t want to think at all the same way she didn’t want to think of life after speaking up, of people knowing she has been raped, of her madam’s husband being arrested or fined, of her madam calling her a liar and slapping her; she never beats her for anything, her madam would rather slap her to death; her fat hands making lines on her face.
She looked every inch of a mad woman. Who would trek that distance in a nightgown and heeled shoe? She did anyway and right now she is ready to damn the world and all its standards.
He did it again after the first time.
The second time.
He said he was getting addicted to her body and couldn’t control himself. He paid no attention to the fact that she no longer talks much or answers questions thrown at her quickly, that she only nods or shakes her head to indicate a yes or a no.
She now walks with a limp and carefully too as one would nurse a wound.
She carries out her chores around the house with a new kind of slowness leaving her doing one thing for a long time and that she has this faraway look in her eyes making her forget what you said seconds after you said it.
He wouldn’t know. He just wanted her to satisfy himself and he gets just that, jerking off to a satanic rhythm each time.
And again the third time.
It was getting messier as he held her down in the bathroom while she was about taking her bath.
Her back was on the cold slippery bathroom floor while he grunted away on top of her. She remembered holding her breath for seconds to whisk away the smell coming from the toilet bowl just a few steps from her head.
The woman from the center covered her eyes and signaled to the cameramen to stop for a while. She looked at the young girl in front of her telling her, her story without a drop of tears.
She might be sixteen the woman guessed using a womanly eye, the one used to know secrets and see things while sitting down.
“How old are you?” the woman asked still wanting to be sure.
“I’m so sorry you had to go through all this, this is a crime against you, your family, all girls and women out there and the state in general. We won’t take this likely and he will pay for everything he ever did wrong to you,” the woman said and reached out to hold her hand, but she pushed it away and frowned.
“Thank you,” she said and got up. “Thank you for believing me and not say that I’m lying, it really means a lot to me.”
The woman looked at her deep in the eyes and thought ‘this one needs a lot of healing inside’. She wondered if it was her own daughter in this same situation but she shook her head to remove such thoughts, she rather not have such thoughts.
The young girl buckled her heeled shoe strap and followed the security agents out to their car.
She got in with them and they made their way back to her house, her madam and the husband would be awake by the time they get there.
Silence is not always golden, sometimes it is plain yellow.
Yellow suggests you speak out.
Yellow says “Damn the world.”
When you speak, you don’t speak only for yourself, you unconsciously give others a voice and strength to speak out too.
- A quiet girl who wants to be heard.