The Unbearable Pain

By Caroline Felicita

I searched through my pain for an answer.

I tried to read the line.

They are hidden in the scratches on my skin,

The tanned skin of mine.

I tried to figure out the puzzle.

They are hidden in my crushed clothes of mine.

I tried to fix the broken parts,

They are hidden in my thinned hair of mine.

Not my skin alone is scratched,

But also my soul.

Not my clothes alone are crushed,

But also my heart.

Not my hair alone is thinned,

But also my spirit.

I begged him to blow death into my soul,

After ravishing my virginity.

The agony of my pain increased,

When they cut my tongue,

When they electrocuted me,

When they burned me alive,

When they packed me in plastic.

When they throw me out of the bus,

But those pain are bearable.

What did I fear the most was?

From that moment they will call me a defiled object, not a victim.

They ask me who will marry you hereafter?

You are not a virgin.

They will look at the ground in shame whenever I appear in front of them.

They meet my eyes and think of me as a strumpet.

So, I asked him to kill me.

After stealing my chastity, steal my soul too.

Because the most unbearable pain is living with the blemish than dying with it.

A voice of a raped woman.

By Caroline Felicita