I took a deep breath.
But I could not hold on.
I cried again.
I sighed.

"it is a long story" I said fighting my tears.

"I love stories "

"you won't like this one" I said smiling.

"Tell me,i insist" he said.

"It was back in time when all was well and still Falaq wasn't happy with her life.  I was extremely hard on myself. It was a high time. Young and beautiful. Eager to be more beautiful. Too many dream, much more expectations. It was books, fanstasies and makeup. The obessesion with boys. The ever lasting obessesion with marriage. I was just another foolish girl in the pool"

I breathed out.

"I was eighteen years old. My father unlike today loved me dearly,I was my father's beloved daughter. Spoiled and over-loved as the only daughter.
Somebody somehow entered my life. My father's small Catering business partner Mr.Saad's son Athar. College at first acquaintances,then friends, a crush..... I liked him. He would smile at me almost everytime my eyes could catch him. For someone like me who had no fear of losing anything and mad hunger for love interacted with him;it was not hard to tell that what I thought as 'love'could happen. I believed in love.  I believed in fairy tales and prince and princess and happily ever after, which was too twisted for my age but I still believed ...until... "

I gulped.  He was composed,there was no eagerness in him.
I continued.

"he bought me flowers, he celebrated my birthday with a grand surprise. He seem to me the perfect Man. He teased me, he called me his life. I believed.  My father liked him, everybody liked him, he had this appealing personality so wherever he'd go, he'd gain a company or an admirer. He was very likeable.
He was extremely easy to love"

I was almost lost in picturing him that I forgot the bad.

"he had a sunshine in his smile, his dark eyes were always shining, he could pick kids of his arms and he would brag about his grades. He was so good at conversations with adults especially Grandma. She loved him. My mother loved him. I loved him.
Soon my father could not lose the chance to marry this perfect man to what he saw me as a perfect girl.
I was eighteen, extremely delighted of the news. Running up and down the house, calling my friends, inviting them to my engagement, drinking coffee and driving home in my dad's wolkswagen at a hundred and twenty speed, banging the music loudly at the highest volume.feeling on the top of the world"

I sighed.

"feeling beneath the Earth. I felt that.
I really pity myself.  I really do think over and wonder it was not fair. For nine months I carried the relationship in myself. I was getting married, who cared I was young, I was excited to start a new life with the man I loved, my father,my brothers, my dear mother nobody thought I was young.  The first fresh flowers of the garden we pick because we love them, we pick them because we love them.  It was all the hectic shopping, driving at one and twenty, listening to Britney Spears. Eating tacos and drinking coffee. Driving at one forty. Keeping the relationship real but distant not talking on the phone, shy love, young love. Wanted to be like my mother. She told me do not talk to the men before your marriage or you would lose your glow, glow was more important. It was again reading romantic novels. Watching Titanic and blushing to old gifts from the man I loved. Driving from malls at one forty and sleeping at two past five. I was sick in love but distant. It was my Chasity that mother taught me to guard. He bought me a seven diamond studded ring as my wedding gift. I did not see it. I only heard of it from my family.  I daydreamed of the moments he would place the ring on my finger. Of the words he would say to me.  Of the love that we would have. Of the life that we would spend"

I closed my eyes. No tears only regret flow of my face.

"Three days before my wedding. I opened up my jewelry box. A small dinner was arranged for family and friends and he was going to attend. So this jewelry box had this piece of crisps white paper that had been crumpled on purpose, that white piece of paper. How I wish I could unsee it. I  opened it carefully, it said in his dirty edgy handwriting : See me on the third floor at 7pm.  Now I was still perplexed, not sure if I wanted to see him, be adventurous or be pious. The clock had been ticking slowly that day.  I could eat, my stomach was turning and twisting. I was nervous. I was excited. I was extremely happy. I had to see him. I wondered if I did not see him this day, we would be married the next few days after, what fun shall it be to not even see him once. Once.
I stumbled on the stairs and made my way. I stood in the corner of the dark room near the window carefully examining that nobody else can see us.  He wasn't there yet.  I looked at the side, it had been a few minutes, my heart was beating loudly and then
Suddenly a hand emerged from the dark. A grip took hold of my waist. At first I was startled, then I smiled faintly but then again it felt like.. like my insides have turned I did not like the hold. I pushed his hands with my fingers. He rubbed his sturdy hands full of blue veins on my stomach. My mouth opened, I wasn't sure if I wanted to be ever held by him. I told him to leave me but the voice hid inside my lung. Nothing of me could be brave to save me, voiceless I said leave!  He did not.  He pushed his front on my back, I could feel every edge of his body feeling mine, I felt disgusted. I tried to escape his hold, his breath under my ear humming my name lurched an ocean inside me, of helplessness . Of disgust.
I pushed him with all my force simultaneously I could not forgive myself for every time, tired, thinking I can try harder. He cupped my breasts inside his hands and  I wanted to scream so loudly that this whole world could hear me mourn this day,howl like the wolves in the night who have lost their pride but I, I could not scream. My voice would not break from my lips. My tears fell one upon the other making a sea upon my shoulders. My heart like crushed in a stampede.scared.scarred.dead did not beating but it definitely stopped that day. As he pushed himself closer to me and inspected my trembling body under his greedy hands, I knew I knew I wasn't ever going to recover from these scars. I never did. When my voice came back, he moved away laughing.   I can clearly remember the grin on his face like he is standing right in front of me now. He ran out smiling. I fell down half dead and half only living because my heart was still beating and my lungs were still breathing. I.... I loved.... I loved him"

I broke down.
I sobbed to the memories.
I could see Al-Wais's hands come for condolence then within a thought move away.

"do you know why I can speak of this so bluntly...because I had to tell this tale to every single person in the house, my father, my brother, my uncles,my Aunt every single one of them. They wanted me to marry the man who sexually assaulted me. He molested me. Their argument to put  me in the wedlock was that it was too late for me to say 'no', that it was my fault that I went to him.  My cousins were asked to make me 'understand ' the situation.  There was nothing as clear as the situation here, transparent as the water but they acted Blind!
They told me I was acting like a prude,that the groom just got a little excited.  Excited? How can anybody justify this kind of behavior in such careless manner"

My eyes were bloodshot, the mercury rised, I held arms with my hands, I was angry again. Like I was angry before.

"My father pledged his father that the bride would be in the venue. I swore on my weary heart I wouldn't. That day when I went running into my room like a lifeless creature guilty, shaking, cold.  My mother instantly locked the door. I cried burying myself in her telling her all in voiceless screams. I felt suffocated in my own skin, like he made dirty, dirty dirty dirty.  I felt so disgusted of my own skin, I wanted to tear it off my body and skin myself till my flesh would fall off my bones"

I cried.  I cried louder.

"It was not my fault but I have paid.  My father talked to his father, his parents said the matter was small that I was equally responsible for it and that their son was in love with me. What is love?  One thing banged inside me like a reckless storm :whatever happens I would never marry this man. There is one thing that every woman has a born instinct of; a touch. She can always recognize a good touch from a bad. A love from a lust. A gentle from a dirt. But here I was retaught my rules. This touch should be accepted because it was just before two days of my marriage and all the relatives know that I have been engaged to him so the hall needs to be filled and the food needs to be served and the people need to celebrate even if I want to die"

I breathed out and closed my eyes.
Opened them and looked on the floor.

"I did not marry him. My father says I destroyed his name the day. I was in deep trauma. From my father's beloved I became his most hated. Everybody pushed me, taunted me, teased,talked behind my backs,front of my face. Told me I should've married him, it was just an unfortunate incident. He wasn't even sorry. Athar was married in a year with all due dignity. I,the foolish victim of his molestation was tortured.  So I was untouchable to the so called dignified men now. For years my father sought good proposals for me. Nothing much came by. Every man would start the conversations with what exactly happened? He took me away from myself that is what exactly happened.
It's been eight years but the nightmares of the dark still haunt. There is always some hands grabbing my waist, a dark shadow behind me. How do you escape from your own mind?  He is free but I am trapped with him.  I thought I would get rid of him if I don't marry him but now.... We're still here, he's still somewhere inside me. I hate him. I hate him. I want him to leave my body but his hands are still at my waistline..... I hate him"

I let myself break apart in the cold air.

He did not speak. I cried over and over. He placed his white towel carefully beneath my fingers without having them touch mine. Like I was some fragile granule......

Like I would break down and scatter on the floor if his fingers would touch mine.

Like I would splatter across in the sky like the stars.

Like I was a fragile Heart ♥

(A/N: I have deeply felt in connection to the topic. I had to portray this kind of situation and the hypocrisy that surrounds it. It is hard to write something like this. We are taught as women to guard our chasity and remain silent on such subjects and then if one opens to someone about it,it really brings the victim in bad fortune which is utterly unacceptable.  As young adults I feel like we are the future of our world and the home of morals for the rest. Do not get involve or be swept by the hypocrisy or the societal image grounds. Stand for our sisters or brothers. Stand for right. Stay blessed xoxo)