6

Mature and sensitive content ahead. Reader's discretion is advised.

***********

Khushi

I was packing my clothes, well, the nightdresses, actually, as those are the only clothes Arnav allows me to wear. The skimpy, sheer, see-through dresses which make me feel so cheap that I always cover my body with the shawl he has allowed me to keep.

Folding and keeping the last piece of my clothing in the suitcase, I zip it up and place it on the floor, ready to be taken the following day.

After finishing to do that, I start to climb onto the bed to sleep, but I get startled when the room's door opens, and a drunk Arnav stumbles inside.

"Khushi," he slurs my name, looking at me with such contempt that I take a step back, my heart beating fast due to the fear.

As I continue to cower back, looking at him fearfully, I notice him smirk and stumble towards me.

"You can't run from me, Khushi. No matter how much you try, you are my prisoner forever."

He continues walking toward me, and I keep moving back, wanting to get as much away from him as possible.

Soon, my back touches the room wall, and I cannot move further.

Seeing me getting cornered, he walks faster toward me and traps me between the wall and his body.

As he leans toward me, I can smell the alcohol stench coming from his mouth.

"Ar..na--" I could not even utter his name completely as he slapped me across the face.

"Sir, Khushi. It's Sir for you, not Arnav. I won't give a cheap whore the privilege to call me by my name."

I clutch my slapped cheek, my eyes tearing up at his insult.

"Stop with the tear work drama, Khushi. I know they are all fake. Your tears, innocent face, beautiful smile, everything is fake. They are the art you have mastered for luring and seducing many of your targets, aren't they?" Arnav asks me, his eyes red with anger.

I can only whimper as he clutches my arms roughly. I know it will leave another bruise later.

A new bruise amidst the countless ones I have.

"I... ha..avee... never..." I begin to say, but he again does not let me complete as he clutches my jaw tightly.

"Is that how you seduced Niranjan too, Khushi? He was a professor at your university, wasn't he? Is that how you went through from one semester to another? By seducing your professors and sleeping with them for good grades?"

He presses my body with his into the wall, crushing me in such a way that it is getting difficult even to breathe, let alone talk.

"Lee...aavee," I croak, but instead of freeing me, he further presses me into the wall.

"Not until you answer me, Khushi. Tell me. How many men did you whore out your body for good grades? 5? 10? 20? 50? How many?" His voice hardens as his hold on my jaw and arm tightens.

I stop struggling and look at him tearily, unable to believe he can think so low of me.

Until today, he shattered my dignity and body by taking me against my will. But now, with his words, he is also starting to break my soul.

I wanted to deny those vile allegations. I wanted to tell him I was innocent, painted in the wrong light by Niranjan.

But I know he will never believe me. He has already chosen to believe the version of the truth that Niranjan told him that night, and no matter how loudly I scream that I am innocent, he will never believe me.

With those thoughts in mind, I continued looking at Arnav, my vision getting blurry as he kept pressing my body, making it difficult for me to draw air.

I start seeing the black floaters when he suddenly moves back, making me slump on the floor.

He crouches in front of me and clutches my hair. "What happened, Khushi? Won't you deny those allegations? Won't you scream your lies again? Won't you say you are innocent and Niranjan is the culprit?" He asks me, yanking my hair back.

I do not say anything. I only look at him, now also stopping to show he is hurting me, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of seeing my pain.

He also looks back at me for a while, his expression inscrutable.

"Take off your dress," he demands suddenly, and I instinctively cover my body.

"I don't know why you are still acting, Khushi. You have slept with many men already. You have even slept with me multiple times now. And still, you act shy, as if you are virtuous and pure," he spits those words at me.

Then leaning to my side, he whispers in my ear. "Whores like you are nothing but flesh to me. A flesh to devour whenever I feel like it."

I fist my hands, trying hard not to let my tears fall.

I wanted to scream at him that I had not slept with any man in the university. I wanted to shake and drill into him that I did not sleep with him either. He raped me and took me repeatedly against my will.

But I do not say anything. I choose to keep quiet because I do not want to waste another word on this poor excuse of a man.

"I am waiting, Khushi. Take that dress off your body," he repeats the order, but I do not make a move to obey him.

He sighs and grips the straps of my dress, pulling it so roughly that it rips apart.

The dress slides down to my waist, revealing my breasts.

I want to cover my bare breasts as I see him looking down at my chest, but I do not move, knowing he will anyway get what he wants by force.

Leaning forward, he takes one of my nipples in his mouth, sucking on it, and flicks and pinches the other with his fingers.

As he continues to suck and bite on my breasts, I squeeze my eyes shut and fist my hands tightly.

I try to focus on my fingers digging into my palm instead of the pain and humiliation Arnav's actions are causing me.

As he continues to do what he wishes with my body, I do not let a tear pour out of my eyes, do not let a whimper come out of my mouth, do not beg him to stop.

I didn't do anything I did every time he raped me since our wedding night.

Arnav stands up and roughly pulls me up from the floor, pulling down the dress from my waist to reveal my naked body.

Even my toes curl in disgust and shame at the way he smirks, looking up and down at me.

"How does this feel, whore? Letting someone else be in charge of your body? I am sure you were in charge of all those men you seduced and played with. So, how does it feel to see tables being turned?" Arnav asks, and although his every word stings me, I will myself not to cry. I do not want to give him that satisfaction.

I see him grit his teeth as he looks at me. Maybe he is angry because he has been unable to make me cry until now.

That is what he likes, after all.

Every time he forces himself on me, he tells me how much he loves to see me cry and beg for mercy from him.

But that's not going to happen tonight.

"I will show you," he says, pushing me to bed.

He hovers over me, biting and roughly kissing me all over, marking me as well as hurting me.

And when he finally parts my legs to bury himself inside me with as much force as he can muster, I squeeze my eyes shut in pain, unable to stop the tears this time.

Still, I do not make a sound as he pounds inside me, cursing at me, telling me I deserve to be defiled like this.

Feeling my walls inside getting torn up by him, I try my best not to focus on the pain. Instead, I look up at the ceiling, making a decision at that moment.

I won't fight this man anymore. What is the point anyways? The more I fight, the more he will enjoy breaking me.

I have lost everything. I have lost my parents, my sister, my honor, my reputation, everything.

But there is one thing I won't lose--my hope.

I won't lose hope about truth prevailing itself one day.

I won't lose hope about my innocence being proven one day.

I won't lose hope about Arnav Rathore realizing the crimes he committed after he finally faces the truth one day.