'If I could ever rape a man!'

She sits by her window, a cigarette in hand….gulping down some coffee! It’s dark, quite and hollow….. or perhaps it is just her! Another trip down the memory lane - turmoil and the same old conflict! Reminds her of Paulo Cohelo’s 11 minutes, which like the rest of his books she couldn’t really finish. But unlike the rest, this does say something familiar, similar, something she understands!
It reminds of that unpleasant touch…. That struggle to get that man off her… the pain of that someone forcing himself inside her and moments later, blood trickling down her body! And, today someone talked about preserving her austerity….What austerity? He perhaps doesn’t judge it by a piece of flesh, intact or missing! But for her, it was never about that piece of flesh or about ‘sanctity’ as they put it!
But that blood trickling down her body, still remains and comes back to hunt her. The pain is still as fresh…. In her dreams she still tries to get that man’s hand off her mouth…she still wants to scream, “I don’t want this.”
She still wishes she had the option of making that choice!
The demons are back tonight and she shall fight them all! And alone! And, for the millionth time, it is back to that wishful thinking - If I could ever rape a man!
Will her pain subside? Won’t the demons return? Doesn’t know!
The darkness is closing in on her…those fingers are running down her body, but she is not ready…but this man is in a hurry….she is refusing, reasoning, trying to explain, convince, talk, stop, beg, fight, beg again…fight some more…and finally, a hand puts her to silence…..her legs are struggling….defining their choice…still struggling to maintain it…. for how long will this 16-year-old fight? But, she hasn’t given up! And then, it suddenly feels like someone has stabbed her with a dagger…. There is pain, there is blood….except there is no dagger…it is his body against hers! But it is hardly making love, isn’t sex either…. it is rape! Tears rolling down her cheeks, she grips the sheet….fight the pains, open her eyes….the room is lit up, there is no blood, she is not naked, the man is gone! No it is not now… it was eight years ago!
Can the goodness of her present life ever blur the demons, the pain, the anger? Will claims of ‘austerity’ ever take those blood stains off her body?

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