Have you ever eaten a chocolate dipped in a tub of spices !
It tastes sweet at first, but then you realise it’s just not what you thought it was. It burned and it hurt.
It bruised my heart.
That’s how I felt when my boyfriend ****** me thrice and not once did it happen with my permission.
And we have been going out for one year and four months.
I never realised those signs, the forced kissing, the changing of topics to always a *** conversation.
Him always trying to touch me.
But that day, he lost his patience which was saving me till now.
I kicked at his *****.
I kicked his arms away.
But he was too strong.
His hold on me was not letting me even move myself. Kicking took too much.
And the irony was, his body used to be my temple.
When he used to take me in his hold, I used to squeak from the excitement of it all.
I used to wet my lips on seeing his bulging muscles.
But now, his arms around me, holding me hostage, feels like a suffocating experience.
I wanted to get away from him, but I was numb.
I was frozen all away, not with fear, but for feeling nothing.
After a few minutes of kicking, all I feel is the emptiness.
His breaths on my neck.
The stench of his sweat disturbs me, yet I am silent.
And after he ***** me, he looks at me like an animal looking at his food and says, “I’ll be back.”
Those three words, he uttered were the scariest of all.
The thought of him ******* me over was disgusting, but the thought of him coming back and ******* me again scared me out of my wits.
So, like every other harassed woman, I am running away, from him, from truth.
Cause after all this, I have not just lost faith, or myself, but I have lost hope, the one thing, which would have kept me running. ©anothergirlwithfantasies