I was kissed by this stranger.
I felt compelled to confront this stranger.
He grabbed my waist and drew me in closer even though I tried to flee and push him. I tried to push him away from me, but he pulled me in toward him as his lips moved firmly on mine.
He bit my bottom lip with his teeth, causing excruciating pain. Instead of opening my lips, I squeezed them thinly. Frustrated, he withdrew. Without my consent, he took my first kiss. I froze in my place.
He reached up to my face and traced his fingers along my lips. I gasped in pain as it gave me a needle-pricking sensation. My lip was dripping with blood, and his fingers worked their magic there. He used his fingers to wipe away the blood stain.
He began kissing my neck and said in my ears, "You like it when I go rough on go, my whore?"
I felt disgusted. My heart was hurting badly. This was all so wrong; I was being taken advantage of by a stranger, and before I could run screaming from the room, the lights flickered on. I closed my eyes and stood there emotionless. I was unwilling to confront whoever that stranger could be. I hoped he would glance at me before turning around and leaving.
"You!" exclaimed the unfamiliar person.
When I opened my eyes, I was shocked to see that it was none other than the haughty man I had seen at my house the day before, who had come to drop Riya off. It couldn't be any worse than that.
"Liste..." He cut me off before I could say anything.
"Are you following me? How much lower can a lady like you go?" He moved across the room as if he owned it and remarked, "Are you that desperate for male attention? I have a few friends of your size, I can surely recommend you to them."
He looked at me from top to bottom and said, "You are not my type. You see, my type is more like those models type." I wanted to smack him in the face, but I restrained myself because, as my mother used to say, if you throw a stone into the dirt, it would eventually fall on your face.
I questioned him, "Are you always like this?"
"Like what?" he asked me in a perplexed tone.
"high and mighty. believes everyone is beneath them," I uttered.
"This is real, sweetheart; someone needs to point out the mirror to you." He rubbed his fingers over his lips.
"Have you looked yourself in the mirror? You need to reduce weight, then a lot of plastic surgeries on your face, but I think you are blessed with assets," he added shamelessly staring at my breasts.
I shouted, "Stop it," and reached up to slap him, but he grabbed hold of my hand, twisted it behind my back, and drew me in closer. I could feel his warm breath on my face.
Angrily, he said, "Don't forget your place." I turned a disgusted look. He withdrew his hand from me and gave me a sharp shove.
"Hey, hey... Do you hold yourself in such high regard? Don't you, but let me tell you that a man like you doesn't pique my attention. I can always alter my outward look, but how are you going to transform the ugly man that lives inside of you? I wouldn't be as desperate for any man but you."
I strode to the door's exit when the door opened and a girl appeared, That female gave me a shocked glance before turning to face the man behind me. I stormed out of the room before she could say anything and headed downstairs to the bathroom.
I saw how much blood was on my lips when I glanced in the mirror; he had been quite cruel towards me. I cleaned my face, removed the blood streaks, and wiped the tears that were streaming down my cheeks. The situation was so out of control that I felt completely helpless and overwhelmed. I picked up my luggage at that point, forgot about everything, and marched straight home. Luckily, when I got home, nobody was at home. I was happy that Riya wasn't home yet and that Papa was out having drinks with his friend.
I reclined on the bed and reviewed all that had happened. Individuals can be so cruel, both in their words and their deeds. I detest those who make snap judgments about other people based just on their appearance, social standing, level of authority, or financial circumstances. Above all, we are human, and our first responsibility to one another is to be human. There are moments when I think I was born in the wrong century. Everything is based on what sells outside rather than within.
I loathe such kinds of men and their conduct, so I went to sleep believing that this was the last time I would ever see them. But I swear, my rage flares up whenever I see him. Even if I'm a calm guy, he gets my darkest side right away.
I wake up the following morning feeling rejuvenated. I'll be on vacation for a week because we have a week of college celebrations. Although I enjoy attending college festivals, I feel excluded in some way. My friend barely acknowledges me anymore because she has a new boyfriend. However, I had a task that I wished to do. I get extremely thrilled just thinking about it. I was eager to read the letter that my close buddy had written. These kinds of unidentified friends are truly fortunate. You may write anything and be yourself without having to apologize for anything.
When I got to the orphanage, I spoke with every child there. I headed to the office to see if Meriam was there. She was working on her paperwork at her desk.
"Good morning, how are you doing?" I enquired.
"Hey, Harshita, how are you? What an unexpected visit today?" she inquired.
I answered, "Yeah, we have college festivities going on," as my excitement began to grow. How can I ask her about the letter, though, without seeming frantic?
"Well, that's nice." She answered, "I'll join you later; I have some work to do."
I turned around, a little let down because I had hoped to receive a letter today. Perhaps he was preoccupied.
She smiled and continued, "By the way, Harshita, you have a letter," before passing the letter to me. After accepting the letter, I half sprinted and half strolled towards the garden to read it. I took a seat on the verdant lawn and tore the envelope open.
Hello Ms.GoodDeeds,
I have one thing I would want to share with you. I've never written a letter to a person before, let alone a woman. In actuality, I'm a young man 28 years old—not an elderly man. I lied to you about me being an elderly man, I wanted to be sure you would write back, and I'm delighted you did. I wasn't testing you. Sorry for keeping my age a secret.
Mothers are very exceptional individuals. When I was quite young, my mother also passed away. However, I can still clearly recall the days when she would always smell like my favorite food when I got home from school. She would play with me and feed me my favorite food, yet she left me all alone. She made all three of us feel incredibly cherished. when someone leaves you, It feels hollow, as though something has been removed from your portion of the heart, and that hollowness is something that can never be filled. However, your father has always been there for you. Sadly, my dad never had any involvement in my life.
My father remarried when I was a college student, and I had a new stepmother who was worse. She personified the emotional torment we never desired. I cannot even begin to put into words what she allowed us to endure. However, I swear to you that when we finally meet in person, I will tell you everything—not just because you're a friend, but also because I think of you as a confidant. I want to share the immense amount of grief and burden I am carrying with someone. You seem to have a better understanding of me.
I have a ton of burdens, even if my stepmom and I are no longer together. I have no idea when I'll be able to move on from these shits of life and lead a happy life. I want to be married, have children, and live a happy married life with someone I love and respect. I've pictured a wonderful house where everyone is smiling and there is only happiness—no sadness—but the struggle for survival doesn't end here for me. I'm about to make a major decision that will destroy many lives, including mine, but I think justice will ultimately win out in the end.
I don't mean for my letters to bring you down, but in some way, suffering has brought us together and turned us into friends. I enjoy writing to you, pal. When can we meet, please? I can't wait to meet you. I'd like to get to know my pal in person. I know it's too early, but even though you can always say no, I secretly hope you'll agree to meet.
Regards,
Mr.Raheja
I let out a long sigh. Am I prepared to meet him? Although I was certain that he was elderly, this information is significant. This letter has a certain something that shouts darkness. This is not the end of this man's journey into darkness. I'm willing to meet him and feel his pain, but am I prepared to feel his pain as well?
There was much suffering and anguish inside of him. I recently lost my mother, but I still have my father, who has always been my rock. I can't image having a stepmother and an ignorant father, though. But he's right—suffering is what binds us together, and I want to share his pain. and resolve to meet him, but I still need to choose a time and day.
I was just about to sit down and start writing the letter when I got a call, I looked at my ID and saw that it was my father.
"Hi, papa," I murmured.
"It's urgent, come home. " He shouted, "Don't ask questions." I simply took his handwritten note, put it in my purse, and hurried to get home.