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Contrary to what the first sentence of the preview might suggest, there is no rape in this story at all.

An excerpt of a later chapter:


"Rape me," I said quietly, but firmly, after some time.

Even though I was sitting on the cold floor adjacent to the cot, I felt Ahsan eyeing me warily. I was sure he stared at me in confusion as I insisted him to commit the horrid act.

Ahsan stretched his longs leg in front of him, on the frigid floor across the room from me. He rested his right forearm on the small wooden table and stared at me blankly. He didn't say anything.

"There is nothing left for me to witness. Besides death itself, there's nothing left for me to experience. I'm fated for this anyway," I muttered flatly as I leaned my head against the frame of the rusting metal cot. My puffy eyes ached so much from all the crying that I no longer had any tears to shed.

My throat was parched; I needed water. I gazed over at the rustic bucket a few feet away and tried to pluck the energy to crawl over to drink from it. But then I remembered that Faizan had kicked over the once-filled bucket before he stormed out of the room with furious rage.

That bucket, though rusted, had all the water I was permitted to have for the week. And now, it amounted to small pools of liquid on the unkempt floor, completely out of my reach.

A swift breeze filled the room from the tiny 'window', which was none other than a drilled hole at the top of the wall with the diameter of two inches. That hole freely let in any rain, sunlight, dust, and whatever else was going on outside. I brought my knees up to my chin and wrapped my arms around my calves, keeping in as much warmth to myself as I could.

"I'd rather you do it instead of the others," I added when the mere thought of the other men inching close to me sent chills running down my spine. Pain sizzled all across the left side of my face from Faizan's fierce slap. It hurt to even speak.

Though I was whispering the entire time, muffled hushes of my echo rippled within the four concrete walls of the room. I shuddered from yet another breeze and patted my matted hair over my ears for warmth. The waft from my locks gave off a horrid stench, it made me cringe. 

How long it has been since I've had a proper shower? 

I had completely lost track of time; I had no idea what day or month it was.

Finally, I lifted my head to look up at him directly. I wish he would pull off the balaclava so I could see his thoughts etched onto his features. But no, after all this time, I've seen nothing of him besides his lips and eyes - eyes that frequently pierced into my own.

Ahsan's heavy footsteps towards me broke the dead silence that hung over us and I blinked back the hot tears, preparing to meet my fate.


~Balaclava (Crimean origin)- a close-fitting, knitted cap that covers the head, neck, and tops of the shoulders, worn especially by mountain climbers, soldiers, etc.

*Author's Note: I am aware that it is not called 'rape' if it is consensual (even though, considering the MC's circumstances, this cannot be considered consensual anyways). The usage of this term will be explained in the chapter where this excerpt is from.

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