This chapter contains description of rape and abuse, skip if it offends you.
Chapter One
Hands roughly shoved at the skirt she wore, calloused hands that smelt of gunpowder. She knew by now that resistance was futile, rebellion a harsh mistake. She had learned that valuable lesson very painfully at the hands of a man who enjoyed bleeding, sobbing virgins.
'Are you done, Nassar?' Someone called from outside the door. The man's grunts were answer enough. She didn't even flinch when the man shoved his cock roughly into her vagina, his stale breath falling on her young face.
As he pounded mercilessly in Izabella Yazmin's body, she was miles away in her mind from this hell that she currently inhabited…
The birds chirped in their nests and wind sang a melancholy tune. Izabella sat on the rock that looked down on a small stream, sun rays glinting like forgotten pieces of gold on the rocks beneath the running water. She usually came to sit here after her afternoon prayers.
But unlike every other day, today she was not at peace. Today she'd hurried to this quiet abode to get away from the talks of her marriage to Fayad.
Fayad…was not someone with whom she envisioned her future. He was amazing in the opinion of her father and brothers, but she didn't like his coarse language and his squinty little eyes. He looked at her in a way that made her feel violated.
But she knew that if father was set on marrying her off with Fayad, then she would be married to Fayad, no questions asked, no reasons given.
Nobody went against father, nobody.
The sudden image of a body bleeding on streets came to her mind. She shuddered despite the warmth of the sun. Roza had tried to rebel too, but her voice had been silenced. People had stoned her to death for loving a Muslim boy.
The future was bleak, but she had no other choice than to do as father said.
She looked at the sun slowly going towards west.
She would feel the back of father's hand if she didn't hurry back and assisted her mother in preparing the food…
The man was done.
The semen dripped from her vagina on the floor. She didn't need to look at it to know that red was as ever-present this time as it had been on the first time she'd been raped.
The sound of the opening door and scuffle of steps was the background noise that she no longer concentrated on. Weeks or maybe months ago, the footsteps had scared her.
Another man took the place of the former.
She recognized this one because he liked to pull her hair while he was railing between her legs. Her glassy eyes looked at his face and still there was no emotion on her face. Emotions made these hours painful.
The tug of a strong hand in her hair and heavy breath that smelled of tobacco started the clock on another sexual release inside her battered cunt…
"We will have a big house in America, and I will show you around the city in a big car…" her little brother's fading words morphed into slight snores. She tucked the sheets tightly around him before she bent to kiss his cheek. His dreams were always the same.
A house in America. A car. And loads of money to do whatever he wanted.
He was still child enough to escape father's wrath with nothing but a mild rebuke. But she knew that he needed to understand that people like them weren't supposed to leave their communities. They weren't supposed to think about mingling with outsiders.
She knew that the day wasn't far when her baby brother's dreams would be crushed beneath the ruthless determination of their father to protect their culture and heritage.
She walked towards the small room that she shared with her two younger sisters. The house was quiet as it should be. She got inside the blankets on her side, and the coldness of her sheets stung her through her ratty sweater. She tried to bury herself against the body heat of her sister but to no avail.
Father had fixed her marriage.
She was going to be Fayad's wife in less than two months.
She willed the sleep to come and take her away to the land of dreams…
She was viciously yanked to the present with a loud bang. She felt the vibration in the wall against her back. The man withdrew with a sharp curse. He was done, as was evident from the flaccid cock that hung between his legs, but this one was greedy.
He always tried to squeeze a second fuck if he could.
With a sharp curse, he pulled his trousers up while she lay with her skirt bunched around her middle. Her naked thighs were painfully thin and the skin was a canvas of numerous cuts and bruises.
He walked out of the door hurriedly, locking it behind him without a backward glance.
The bombers must be overhead.
The militants only rushed out of a room and a woman in case of attacks by opposition.
The tears that had not made any appearance previously fell now. In a silent, almost straight line they crossed her cheeks to fell on the rags she wore. She still prayed to the god in hopes that a stray bomb might fall on the camp where she was being kept, but every day the planes passed overhead and she was left to take cocks in her mouth and vagina…
Izabella was dutifully listening to her mother as she explained about the household chores that Iza would have to do in Fayad's house. It was nothing new. She already did most of the work at home.
"Now, daughter you're going to be a married woman soon. And a married woman has some duties especially in regard to her husband." A melon was handed to the shopkeeper and her mother busied herself in bargaining. It was some time before her mother got another chance to broach the previously discarded conversation.
Till the time her mother had stopped to enquire after the price of meat, her face was crimson and her ears were ringing.
"What if I don't like what Fayad does on our wedding night?" she asked in a soft whisper, embarrassed to the tip of her toes.
"Then you lie still and let him enjoy himself, a daughter. It's a wife's duty to please her husband."
It was a woman's duty to cry for a man's pleasure.
It was a woman who became the object of a conquest or prize of a contest.
The militants had rounded every male member of her town and executed them when they'd refused to convert their religion. They'd killed her brothers, her father in front of her eyes. She still saw the decapitated head of her baby brother in her dreams.
The blood was always on her skin, never to be scrubbed clean.
Her sisters and her mother along with her had been taken to the militant camp where her youngest sister had been bought by a fat, vile man for his perverse pleasure.
She could still feel the warmth of her sister's finger between hers.
She didn't know how many days she'd passed in this room, but it felt like a lifetime.
She curled in herself, wishing for sleep.
The horror of her dreams was much safer than her reality…
