Feature Story (A Flash Fiction)
“i just want to sleep. a coma would be nice, or amnesia, maybe. let me forget, even for a while, just to get rid of these thoughts in my mind. did he violate my mind too?”
i remember it so well, the look in his eyes, the smirk on his face, and the way he moves his body. i remember it all. and it keeps playing in my head on repeat.
it was late afternoon but too early for the night when he passed by and drove me home. i could be graphic and narrate everything as i see it in my mind now, but i won’t. i won’t give him a chance to invade my thoughts. i won’t let him manipulate how my mind will work.
if i were to rage a war, i’d begin by telling my story of that one unfortunate night. he was a deranged selfish man who could not accept defeat.
why did he do it?
was my ultimate question. what was he trying to prove? sexual prowess or to control through fear?
and why didn’t i file a complaint?
i felt humiliated and confused. my soul was in great fear while my mind was in a rage. there was an overwhelming sense of vulnerability and a paralyzing feeling of lack of control over my life. i was haunted by the fear of the place in which it occurred. i became a total stranger to myself. i didn’t have enough courage to tell anyone much more file a formal rape case.
i became a fully functional victim for so long. i went on with my life and never told anyone.
i am telling my story for a newspaper feature in the celebration of Women’s Month. i know that he will read this and feel the wrath of my account. by now, he is an old man. old and fragile man; after all, it has been over two decades. and reading this would bring back the evil he was when he was young.
he will then now pray to all the gods that what he did to me will never happen to any of his beloved daughters (i pray, too, with all my heart). still, as we both pray, he would realize hell is coming his way now while i am moving towards reclaiming the peace in my mind and the serenity in my heart.
he reads his own brutality in the newspaper as he sips a cup of coffee. regrets will fill him in. sorrow will eat every cell of his body. he will take the newspaper and burn it until it becomes a complete pile of ashes. he burned it so that his family won’t have access to read it. but, lo and behold! his beloved wife arrived from work later that day.
“is this you? was this you? the description fits perfectly well, and you told me once of the young girl you dearly loved but never loved you back.”
– END –