sais

And all I can do is watch the door close behind him. Everything seems so unreal. As if I'm not the woman on the floor. It's a figment of my mind. That's clear. Finally, there are the hands that grope me. They grab my legs roughly, push them straight and I'm pushed, landing hard on my back on the ground. I gasp. And there is a brief pain. But this is lost too quickly. The darkness takes me, engulfs everything around it. And that is by no means the relief of the swoon that this blackness produces in me. It's the knowledge that there's nothing I can do. Absolutely nothing at all. I'm trapped in my body and forced to experience it.

With half-open eyelids I see one of the two men. How he's bent over me He looks at me, licks his lips greedily and this very sight lets a tear run silently down my temple. But they ignore them. Don't see the desperation in my eyes. They don't realize that they are robbing me of my innocence. It may be that no one understands what is going on inside me. Am I a prostitute? Many may think that this is nothing new to me. After all, my customers treat me roughly too. But that's not the case. I know that now. The difference between a yes and a no. Between the power to decide. What every human should be entitled to. What makes a personality. All of that is being ripped from me at this moment. In the most painful way.

But the worst thing is that I hate myself more and more. After all, I don't fight back. There is an abyss of fear within me that standing up would cause even greater pain, that it would take away more from me than my freedom to speak my mind. But that's what makes me despise myself more and more. No wonder nobody sees me as someone with feelings. After all, I rob myself of the qualities that are so important for it. So why should anyone stand up for me if even I can't?

My legs are spread and there is a hand on my most intimate zone. And it is precisely this touch that makes me tremble. Suddenly there is some strength in me again. I am more aware of the environment. hear the heavy breathing Feel the dirt on the floor. The cold of the air. And that makes me jump. I have to get out of here. My panic makes the men disappear from my mind. Only the saving door is of concern to me. But she's so far away. My limbs are made of lead. So hard. So immobile. How can that be?

And so I only manage to get up a few centimeters before I'm pushed back to the ground. And since it's almost impossible to escape, I try again by screaming. All my power is in that last note. all my despair all my hope And again I can only stare at the door. But this one doesn't move. It does not open. I know he's there. He won't leave me alone. No matter what he does to me, he has never completely failed me.

"Zaret!" I sob softly as saliva hits my private parts. This makes me tremble again and then I'm not allowed to see the only exit. Instead, one of the men appears there. Greed leaps at me, taunts me . Shows me it's over. Still I want to squeeze my legs together but it doesn't work. Something is holding me. Or someone. But that's not important. But what's important is that my shame is exposed, that he position his erection

"Don't do this," I whisper, but my words are lost in screams. The glans penetrates me. And that's exactly how this man steals my voice. My mouth is open. I want to beg with all my might for help. All mine There is energy in this attempt. But I get quieter. The shrill sound dies away in whimpering. And that, too, goes away. I want to say something. Want to beg him to finish it. But nothing. Not a word. No sound. There is Just the rushing of blood The faint beating of my heart The endless sadness that it's over Never will the rich man take me now I'll lose everything.

And with the thought comes the ice. This slowly creeps through my bloodstream - takes me, freezes all organs. Suddenly I feel incredibly cold. And so the pain from the thrusts isn't what bothers me, it's what I know I'll never feel inner warmth again. It's over. Zaret took it from me. Simply that way. On a whim.

And with every inch he penetrates deeper into me, the torment increases. I'm not wet enough. The spit distributed there before was not enough. And so my skin tears further with little pushes. It hurts. It feels like I'm in hell in person and the flames are burning up my abdomen. But all the physical pain would be bearable for me. These heal. Sometime. But what can never be restored is my soul. With the deeper penetration, it seems to splinter more. It feels like something is tearing me apart from the inside. Slamming his claws into me, taking away a bit of myself little by little. Slow. painful. Forever.

And while my lips are still twisted into a silent whimper, he thrusts hard again. The erection is pushed completely into me. A searing pain ensues. This makes me tense up. My tormentor makes a sound somewhere between pain and excitement. And exactly this sound eats through me - tears my heart apart. I will never forget that sound again. I am sure of that.

And then he starts to move his pelvis slowly. With each forward and backward movement, the friction decreases. But that is not the wetness of lust. No, my own blood makes it more bearable. He ripped me up. And it is precisely this knowledge that makes me drift away. Suddenly I manage to switch off. I'm still in the room. But somehow not anymore. I can still feel the movements, hear the moans, the clashing of our pelvis. But all that seems so far away. There is the inner powerlessness. The numbness of my body. The protection that won't drive me insane. Still, the tears don't stop. Incessantly these run hot over my skin. And every salty drop has something of my strength in it - shows the deep sadness from which I will probably never wake up again. Who will eat me up and make me like my mother. A shell without life. A spirit that only roams the earth but is no longer really there. A nothing.

The man pushes again and again. I no longer have any tension in my body, just look at the ceiling and let it all go over me. I also ignore the fact that I scrape the floor with every forceful penetration and my skin is already burning. It's not important. Nothing seems to matter anymore. The blackness in me swallows everything. The other roughly grabs my chest, literally crushes it, pulls on it. There's a little pain. But this also goes out - showing me that death inside cannot be far away. And me? I can not do anything. I don't want to fight back. am too weak Only one question echoes heavily in my head: Why?

And then the man above me twitches uncontrollably. It brings me back to the here and now. I look at him with wide eyes, shake my head while another tear falls from my eye and the member is already pulsing in me. And as the seed is pumped into me, my disgust rises. Bitter bile enters my mouth and the saliva is also increasing. I try to swallow the mixture, but I can't. And so my rapist's moans are joined by gagging. I'm shaking uncontrollably again. But this time it's not through helplessness. I feel sick. Really bad. The man also seems to notice and quickly retreats. Not a moment too late. I immediately push myself up on my elbows and the contents of my stomach follow. Or more likely bile.

Sweat builds up on my skin and my surroundings become more and more blurred. God I want it to end I've never felt so drained. There's pain in my pubic area - pain in my heart. They both just seem to want to overwhelm me. And as I tremble again, I feel like I can't breathe. I gasp for oxygen, but it seems like it's refusing to take it. That even breathing should no longer be granted to me from now on.

My groans sound heavy across the room. But again the men show no consideration. Someone grabs my ankles and jerks me away from my vomit. I sob, clutching the floor. But it's useless. Except that one of my fingernails splintered. I yelp and then I'm pushed back to the ground. I close my eyes quickly, can't do anything but shake my head in panic. No, not again. I can't stand a second rape. I can feel that. If this man also abuses me, then I don't want to live anymore. I can never recover from it. Find the strength that is necessary to do so. And as if my thoughts are being spoken out loud, the door slams. How this one hits. I want to see who came, but nothing.

"That's enough." Two words. Nothing more. And yet suddenly my hands are gone. And that makes me sob even more. It's over.

"Zaret, come on. I want to do it again," someone grumbles and my whole body tightens. No one who would recognize me as a person talks like that. No one who cares about me. They raped me, groped me, and now? Look at it now she doesn't even me. As if I were a piece of meat. And that's exactly what triggers something in me. My grief transforms. This time it's not blind rage that takes hold of me. No, it's something like disbelief coupled with bewilderment. And it's crazy. But it gives me strength. Strength that I urgently need. So I heave myself up. Only now do I notice the bitter smell of my vomit. But I don't care either. I want to get out of here. So I search after my dress.

It lies in tatters on the floor. The second time, Zaret breaks one of my things. The second time he robs me of money again, which is actually needed for food.

Nevertheless, I reach for it and at least cover the most important parts of my body. Then I turn to the door. The blood is still pounding in my ears and so I don't really understand what the men in this room are talking about. But I don't care either. The steps hurt me. Although saliva was used, I am still injured. However, I can deal with that later. I have to get out of here. Since I don't want to see any of them, I just stare at the exit and start walking hesitantly. And as strong as I seem from the outside, I feel so helpless. My heart is pounding painfully in my chest and I feel like I'm going to break one of my ribs. My fingers tremble too. But these are covered by the remains of the dress so no one can see.

That gives me security. At least somehow. So I take another shaky step. I would like to walk Just get away from here. As quickly as possible. But I'm afraid of tripping. That I fall and then they jump on me. Like a robber on his prey. And then there's a hand on my upper arm holding me back. This touch is enough that I immediately panic again. Immediately I spin around, yank at the arm and whimper loudly.

"Let me go," I whisper, encouraging my efforts. Someone is saying something, but I can't hear it, can't understand the words. So I dig my fingernails into my hand, just scratch blindly. I want to get out of here. Just get out and never come back. But I can't do that. Instead of just letting go, someone is pressing my back against the wall. And only then do I realize who it is. Zaret. And crazy as it is "As wrong as my feelings are. The sight of him calms me down. I immediately sob in relief and lose some of my tension. He won't rape me.

"Shit Kalota, come down." Worry. In fact, there is concern in the voice. And suddenly I also recognize other signs of it. The eyebrows are slightly wrinkled and Zaret looks at me scrutinizingly. He's still pressing my shoulders the wall as he turns to the men. "What was on, be careful not to understand," he barks in the direction and I can't do anything but stare at him. Be careful. He made them rape me and now he's mad they complied? Then he looks at me again and the shock is written all over his face. Something clearly happened here that Zaret had not planned. But I do not care. And right at that moment, I hate him like I've never felt before.

He still doesn't say anything, just holds me tight. And at that very moment, the hands seem to be eating into my skin. The touch hurts me. So I want to get out of this, rear up. "Let me go." There's more strength in my voice this time. That should make me happy. But it doesn't. I don't care.

Zaret just shakes his head and takes a deep breath. "No, you should stay here for now." He still seems worried about me. Like he cares about my well-being. But he doesn't. He just proved that. So I encourage it my efforts, but I'm too weak. What just happened is hanging in my bones, makes me act more difficult. And when I realize the hopelessness, everything in me contracts. Another tear steals from my eye, while the pain in my Drives me insane inside. Why am I so weak? "But I don't want to stay with you." My words are lost in sobs. So infinite sadness resonates in what was said and yet it doesn't reflect what I feel. Not even remotely.

"Shit," Zaret grumbles, and the first time I see him, I'm stunned. Normally I would probably find this fact fascinating. But not like this. I don't care. I just want to get out of this room. No more smelling that air. Not more the men see. "Kalota, listen..."

"No!" I yell, interrupting him. I don't want to hear any excuses. I don't want to listen to what he's saying. None of this would change anything. Absolutely nothing. Zaret looks at me and shakes his head almost imperceptibly.

"It wasn't planned," he whispers, and I can't help but gasp in disbelief. Can't he be serious?

"I don't care." And now I want to tear myself away from him again. But he won't let me go. Why can't he just give me my space now? Again I want to say something, but I forestall him: "I want it don't hear." Shrill. My voice cracks and even for me it is difficult to understand my words. But that's not important either. So I want to push Zaret away from me and finally he lets go of me.

With a roar of rage, he bangs against the wall. The wood of the hut groans under the impact, and Zaret's aggression seems to take over the entire space. This does not apply to me. I know that. Nevertheless, this causes indescribable fear, so that I whimper softly. Then he turns to me and I should run. But I can not. The fear paralyzes me. I can only look at him as he approaches me, and with every inch I walk my heart tightens. "You have to believe I didn't want that."

And this sentence triggers something in me. It's like he's telling me that my rape was an accident. But that doesn't make it any better. Rather worse. You took so much from me. I feel so infinitely small. so helpless Dirty like never before in my life. And all this for nothing? Because Zaret doesn't have his men under control? A stupid coincidence? No, I cannot and will not accept that. I bury my face in my palms and suddenly standing seems difficult. But I can't break down here. At least I should be able to get out of here. So I look at the door with a foggy look and go. Pay no attention to Zaret. And this time nobody's stopping me. I can leave the room. And as the cold settles on my skin, I take a deep breath.

But someone grabs me again. Again there is the warmth of a body driving me insane. I immediately break free and spin around. Zaret. him again. "Leave me alone," I scream, and at the very moment when he's standing in front of me and has taken everything from me, the grief turns to anger. Suddenly there's a blazing fire in me. It blinds me for everything. I don't care what the consequences of my actions might be. So I jump to Zaret and punch him blindly.

The paralysis paired with a deep sadness that I just can't bear. that pulls me away Deep in the black. Where there is no light. No hope. No reason to keep living.

"I never want to see you again," I whisper, turning around. I'm naked. My dress is on the floor. Dirty. Torn. I don't care. People will see what happened to me. I will too I was a rape victim, the blood between my legs will see to that.

Zaret exhales heavily and there is a rustling sound, then he puts something on my shoulders and holds me briefly. And before I can move away from him again, he says, "This isn't going to work. You have three days to collect yourself." And that makes me stop in mid-movement. I immediately want to turn to him and tell Zaret to go to hell, but when I look behind me, there's no one there Only the heavy coat around my shoulders shows that it wasn't just my imagination.

****

And when the knowledge that I'm alone takes over completely, nothing holds me anymore. I run. Quickly. As if the devil himself is chasing me. Every step hurts, causing an uncomfortable pull in my abdomen. But it is not important. But what is important is that I get away. Just far away. Where to is irrelevant. And even if I knew where my legs were supposed to take me, I couldn't see the way. Tears blur my vision. Make my environment blur. But that's good. It takes away my reality. Exactly what I need.

So I just let my feet carry me. Here and there a person complains angrily. I can't judge whether I bumped into him or whether the path was just cut off. my body is numb And so I keep stumbling, losing my shoes, brushing against the rough plaster of a house wall. But I never stop. An indescribable fear fills me that a short stop will summon Zaret again. After all, he always follows me. Normally that meant security for me. This is over from today. I don't want him to bother me ever again. He will never get any money from me again. I swear to myself with every fiber of my body. And despite this newfound insight, the panic doesn't let up. This controls my body. So I keep walking.

Doors, houses, alleys. All of this is passing me by. Small stones dig into the soles of my feet. My lungs are on fire. Makes me feel like a thousand needles are stuck in her. It's not important. I also hardly notice that my muscles are on fire. Why should I care about that? My entire body is like a construction site. Everything hurts. It doesn't make a difference anymore. At least it should. Because the fire seems to be growing. It spreads and every breath of air becomes endless agony. I almost have the feeling that my lungs are about to give up. That she doesn't want to be a part of me anymore. And my legs obey me less and less. Running becomes staggering. Again and again I twist my ankle, bang against a wall. feel the pain But I don't stop. Not yet. I must be granted a little more. White smoke forms on frantic exhalations, showing temperatures continue to fall. And yet sweat runs down my forehead. I wipe my eyes, wanting to get rid of those pesky little drips.

I'm so hot And cold. Freezing. And yet I'm on fire. These contrasts drive me crazy and so I want to scream. But I'm not allowed to do that either. A tone sounds. But this one sounds like it's from an old woman. Weak. Sickly. Not important.

And just as I rub my face with the back of my hand again, I see my goal. The brothel. There's the shabby hut. Smoke comes out of a small chimney. And that alone is enough to give you a little more energy. I just have to get in there. Then I'm sure. Intuitively, I chose the only location I know where Zaret can't rush in. It is a haven in the raging sea. my port And so I exhale heavily as I continue to work my way forward. Bit by bit. centimeter by centimetre. My muscles are really screaming, they don't want to take another step. Lifting your feet is getting harder and harder. As if my blood turned to lead. one last fight be strong once more

And so I make it in front of the hut. Can run my fingertips over the wood, feel the little grooves in it. It should make me proud. Should show me how much hidden power I have. But it is not like that. no pride No dignity. And as crazy as it sounds, that fact doesn't shock me. After all, all my self-respect was ripped from me when I was raped.

I enter with the thought. And as I hear the girls' laughter, the faint smell of the lemon, it becomes clear to whom I want. So I start running again. I hurry down the corridor, ignoring the passing doors. Just the one. The ones at the other end of the hall.

"Kalota?" Pete sounds next to me. I don't look at him. Don't stop. Yes, I don't even hesitate. And then I'm at the dilapidated door, open it door bangs against the wall behind it, but I hardly notice it.

There she is. Claire. My girlfriend. Another victim. She frowns at me. And as she surveys my body and sees the blood between my thighs, her expression freezes. The slight smile that is usually found on her disappears. Instead, she presses her lips together into a thin line. Then our eyes meet. And there is connection. A person who understands me. Who knows all the suffering. This uselessness. The pain. One second - no longer - let's take a look. And yet that's enough. She understands me. I feel safe.

Claire gestures for me to come further inside and approaches me. Not a word is said. But that is not necessary either. We don't need that. Sometimes silence says more. And so it is here. Pete yells something, but the angry sound is swallowed as Claire closes the door. There's a soft click, letting me know it's locked.

And this sound makes me collapse inside. Security. Here this is given. I no longer need to be strong and can drop the mask. And with that very thought, I collapse. Tears immediately flow uncontrollably over my skin, dripping onto the floor. And with that comes the excruciating pain. God it hurts so much. There's something in me The claws seem to be digging deeper and deeper, tearing me open. My heart is beating so slow. Almost unnaturally slow.

And as I cry, the rush of my blood subsides. My sobs echo heavily in Claire's room, mingling with Pete's loud knocking. He's at the door. Shout anything. But I don't pay attention. And then there are arms. These embrace me. And very briefly I tremble. Panic mingles with the endless sadness. Startles me and I look around frantically. Claire crouches next to me and hugs me tightly. And that makes it hard for me to exhale. Suddenly I perceive the warmth of her body differently. This doesn't seem to burn me. No, I'm fine. And so I let myself fall - I let it all out. all the sadness All the desperation all my helplessness

Again and again I tremble and groan in pain. But that sound doesn't come from the abuse my body bears. no It comes from within me. My soul seems to be shredded. As the thin glass of a carafe shatters into thousands of pieces, so it is with my inner being. And the worst thing is that it will never be the same again. It may be that an adhesive can bring the shards back together. And maybe it seems similar to the original. But that's not true. It will never be the same again. There are cracks. Whether visible or not is irrelevant. They are there. Show that I'm broken. That someone broke me And that hurts like hell.

Claire still says nothing. She is just there. And only when my tears have dried up does she break away from me. Very hesitantly, she strokes my back and only then does it occur to me that I'm not wearing Delicate's coat anymore. When did I lose this? I immediately want to look around, but Claire won't let me. She takes my face in her hands and looks at me intently.

"Come on, I'll fix you a bath," she whispers, and I nod slightly. Yes, that's a good idea. I need to wash up. It will definitely take away the feeling of being soiled.