Madness. An honest expression from the beginning-less time.
Her beautiful black dress was torn, losing its elegance. Surrounded by men like a pack of dogs circling their prey. These men raped her in the most disgusting and crude state of behaviour. Vultures and a screaming flesh.
They resorted to brutality. The beatings and how helpless she looked trying to fend them away. Yet, her painful scream kept giving them glorious newfound joys they have never felt before. I knew how these men felt; an unspoken glory of manhood to ravish and humiliate. To fuck a pompous finesse against her wishes. A royal bitch everybody would just love a piece of.
I did not flinch. I was hypnotised.
By the sadistic sumptuousness display through this frozen window.
I had no idea how long the rape went on until it finally stopped.
Everything became quiet.
They left her alone. She was not moving, nor covered.
What a sight.
I left the apartment.
The night was eerily silent with no one in sight. I walked slowly approaching her powerless form. She didn’t make a sound as I drew closer. Her eyes were tightly shut.
I stood awhile absorbing this moment.
Bruises and wounds. I wanted to touch those bruises, staring at the collision of her strength and pain.
I picked her up and took her to my apartment. It seemed like a civilised thing to do. She opened her eyes softly as I placed her on my bed. I was not generous enough to smile. She would not be able to appreciate any either. Not in this confusion.
I placed a damp cloth softly on her wounds. Wiping away dirt and pain from her face, violent marks on her neck and skin, bruises on her body, valleys between her fingers, scrapings on her knees and ankles, and her broken fingernails. Naked and beautiful, I cleaned her gently. For every wound that I cleaned, I planted small kisses on each. Hoping they would assist the recuperation.
She stared at me. A very proud eyes softened by the sweetness on her face. I could see anger seething underneath her calm composure. Absent-minded, I reached out to stroke her hair.
And she punched me.
I lost my balance for seconds. We looked at each other anticipating the next move. She was ready to hit me again. But I was not about to defend myself.
I backed away.
Walked out of the room and closed the door.
Outside in the hall, I dropped onto a couch. Heavy with thoughts and questions. Gazing blanks at the closed door. Waiting for this moment to pass me by.
I opened my eyes when I felt a slight touch on my lips. She stood before me in the dark. Naked, waiting to be worshiped. Before I could bring myself to her, she slipped her hand underneath my shirt and pulled it off. I was not sure what to expect. I was not even sure how to react to the array of uncertainties that this moment has brought me.
With an imperial grace, she sat herself on top. I could feel my heart beating fast underneath her warmth and moist. Her pleasant litheness was a stark contrast to her turbulent emotions. In that darkness, I could hardly see any bruises or anything that reminded me of the earlier inhumane episode. My fingers searched her skin, her softness, and her wounds, for secrets wishes that her eyes were desperate to hide.
We kissed without any symphonies of romance or hope. Deeply consumed by this time frame where future and pasts no longer matter. I tasted her silent anger and wildness as she poured them into my being. She clawed my back, leaving marks yet incomparable to her own. Blinded by intensity and excitement, I reached for her neck and felt her throbbing pulse underneath my thumb.
I wanted to swallow her fear.
I wanted to devour her nightmares passionately that would force her to bleed with rebirth.
I wanted her to be part of me for seconds. For a lifetime.
For a passage of time.
Morning sun knocked on my window. Throbbing rays were hurting my sight. I turned away and greeted by silence. Half expecting her lying next to me soundly asleep. But it seemed, hollowness was the only picture I woke up to.
Only hours ago, this place was melted by our ferocious intimacy.
Before everything turned barren and dead.
I was hesitated to move from this spot. Strangely at ease in this hanging moment. Without any reasons to feed my curiosity.
A damp piece of cloth.
Apart from her wound, she left nothing else.