Story of a survivor
This isn't the life I asked for.
This isn't a life I deserved.
What was my fault?
What had I done wrong?
Why do they keep telling me to keep quiet?
Shouldn't I speak against him?
Just because he is my husband doesn't mean he isn't wrong.
I shiver inhaling sharply when I hear the door open, the clank of his belt vibrates against the tiles, he mutters beneath his breath. I glance over my shoulder, his eyes narrow darkly.
"Please... don't" I step back shaking my head.
"You're my wife Geet" he squeezes my cheek. "I'm only f**king you"
"I'm... hurting" I murmur squirming to free my face from his long fingers. "This is wrong"
He smirked. "I'm your husband Geet, there's nothing wrong"
"It's wrong when this is not consensual" I mumble.
"I don't need permission or your consent Geet" he replied smiling slyly.
Why do people justify men's actions?
Shouldn't they be punished if they're wrong?
Isn't rape a crime?
Even if it is marital rape, a man should be punished.
Why doesn't he stop?
He knew that I wasn't ready yet he went ahead and forced himself upon me.
I stand in front of the mirror staring at my bruised body. His teeth marks prominent, the bite of his nails drew long lines over my skin. Is this how a man treats his wife?
"Come out Geet, how long are you going to take getting ready?" he yelled.
"I'm coming" I call back gently. I didn't want to go out there, but I knew him.
He'd open this door and drag me out. So I comply and step out once I've dressed.
He peruses me for a moment and sneers. "Maybe we should cancel the dinner"
I swallow thickly hoping he goes to dinner, my body was still hurting and beneath this clothes I looked like a battered wife who'd been mauled by animals.
That is what my husband was, an animal.
"Maan" his mother called out from downstairs. I wondered what he would say, he simply rolled his eyes and glanced at me seriously. "You can take care of me when we're back..."
I felt the bile rise in my throat but clenched my jaw blinking back my tears.
"Are you crying?" he narrows his eyes.
I shook my head instantly, he nodded shortly grabbing my wrist and tugged me alongside him...
I despise my mother in law, she enjoys watching shows where the girl is raped and has fallen in love with her rapist.
How is that logical? How can a battered raped woman fall in love with her rapist?
Why don't people think before they write or show such stories?
Do they ever think of what a victim has been through?
Do they know of the mental breakdown she has each morning when she wakes up and realises this life of hers is a reality? It isn't a nightmare, it's her truth. It's her ruined life.
Do they know that when she looks in the mirror, she sees a shadow of her former self?
How could people write such stories? How could you show a woman falling in love with her rapist?
It shouldn't be shown nor written.
Why couldn't they write about the effect rape has on the victim?
Why couldn't they write about the break down she has? Why can they not show the battle she has with herself, in one hand she wishes to end this nightmare and in the other hand she wants to fight this. She wants punishment!
Next time maybe one should consider those before the write and show illogical stories.
I can't take it anymore.
He doesn't stop, despite protesting and trying to fighting him back he overpowers me.
He blames me for making him lust after me.
Why am I being blamed for my own rape?
He always mutters into my ear that this is all correct. He's always telling me how it doesn't matter that I haven't said yes, he's my husband so he's allowed.
I snap back to my reality when he grips my hair forcing my eyes open.
"Look at me" he demands.
I wanted to close my eyes, the instinct to fight overcomes me I push his shoulders shaking my head.
"Please... please... stop" I scratch him but my fight only seems to excite him. He plungers deeper and roughly chuckling, he curls his fingers around my throat squeezing, his eyes glinting evilly.
I feel spots of blackness but it doesn't come, he releases my throat and angles my head as he slams his lips on mine and kisses me harshly.
Why doesn't it end?
How could they ask me to not speak against him?
All because he is my husband? It's wrong!
My mother in laws knows what's happening, and she simply answers saying he's my husband.
How could that be correct?
Had this been happening to her, would she have kept quiet and accepted it?
Aren't women human? Why are they seen as objects?
When a man rapes a woman - don't they remember it was a woman who gave birth to them?
Don't they remember that they have a sister? What would they have done if their sister was treated like this?
The damage to her mentality is irreversible, a woman may heal physically but the remainder of the rape remains. She's traumatised. She sinks into the depths of depression.
How do people turn a blind eye to the devastation a woman faces when she is raped?
"Mr Khurana you are under arrest for the rape of Mrs Geet Khurana"
I watched feeling my heart leap, they're finally taking my plea seriously. I watch from behind the pillar silently, he was finally going to be taken away. I'm going to free of him.
Maan only smirks in response chuckling.
I felt the gates of freedom that'd opened slightly slamming closed.
The policeman who'd come broke out laughing. "I can't believe your wife man, she's complaining against her husband having sex" he shook his head.
"Mmhmm" Maan hummed and glanced over, his eyes instantly narrowing to where I was stood.
They didn't take my plea seriously.
Dried blood stains my fingers today, he showed me he was powerful in all ways.
I want to fight to survive but it's getting harder.
Nobody believes that what he's doing is wrong, they think it's right.
How could it be wrong when he's my husband!
"Go to bed and be ready. I'm coming" he tells me as I clear away the plates.
I don't defy, I head upstairs slowly.
I change into my night dress and lie down on the bed.
I feel my heart racing as I hear his footsteps, the door opens as he walks in.
He glances at me briefly perusing me as he pushes open his shirt and climbs in.
I close my eyes as he climbs over me keeping his knee on either side of me, his hands groping me, he leans forward assaulting my neck with his harsh kisses and his stinging bites.
I slide one arm around his neck holding him whilst my other hand reaches beneath the pillow.
In one swift moment I plunge the silver blade into his neck, his eyes widen as he stares at me shocked. I stare in horror as the blood spurts, I shove his heavy off me and scramble off the bed as he gurgles and blood drenches the covers.
He's unable to speak.
I felt many emotions overcome me, nervousness, fear, worry and relief. I didn't feel sadness though.
I felt relieved.
He's dead.
My rapist is dead.
I'm free.
I may be spending my life in prison for defending myself but I feel safer here than I ever felt with him. I wasn't going to apologise for defending myself. He deserved this.
Rape is wrong whether you're married to the rapist or not.
Nothing can justify rape.
No one should be even accepting it. No matter how dreamy it may seem on tv or books.
You shouldn't accept this, he may be your favourite hero or the hottest look guy but he's wrong!
I'm glad I killed my husband.
He no longer controls me. He doesn't control my body nor my life.
I'm free...
Maan no longer will be able to hurt me.
To me the prison cell is safer than being with him.
If it were up to me, rapes would be punishable by death.
--------Hope you liked this One Shot-------
It's completely different from any others I've written.
Do leave me your views
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