Devotion and Motorbikes
The scent of incense wafted through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly made sweets. My mom was always one for devotion and spiritual practices, which is why the sight of a motorbike parked outside our home seemed so incongruous. It stood there, a sleek black machine, contrasting sharply against the serenity of our house, where my mom spent most of her time in prayer or working on her various puja rituals.
"Mom?" I called out as I stepped inside, my voice tentative, unsure if she'd even be able to hear me over the sound of her own prayers. There was no response. The silence that greeted me felt heavy, almost oppressive, spreading through the house like a fog.
"Mom!" I tried again, louder this time. Still nothing. A knot formed in my stomach as my mind raced with possibilities. Was she okay? Had something happened? And who did that motorbike belong to?
"Hello?" I ventured further into the house, approaching the small room where my mom usually conducted her pujas. The door was ajar, revealing the familiar sight of the altar adorned with flowers and the flickering flame of an oil lamp. But my mom was nowhere to be found.
"Is anybody here?" I continued my search, feeling a growing sense of unease as each room turned up empty. The motorbike outside nagged at me, its presence becoming more ominous by the second.
I hesitated for a moment, feeling a mixture of confusion and disbelief. My mom? Talking to this man? It didn't make sense. But as I turned and made my way to the kitchen, part of me couldn't help but wonder if there was more to my mom's quiet, devout life than I had ever realized.
As I stepped through the open front door, the sound of laughter echoed through the house, bouncing off the walls and filling me with a sense of growing unease. It was a man's laughter – deep and unfamiliar, it felt out of place in our quiet, orderly home. The bathroom door was shut tight, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.
"Mom?" My voice came out as a whisper, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. The laughter continued, punctuated by the splashing of water. What was going on? Who could be in there with her?
"Mom!" I called out, unable to remain silent any longer. There was no answer, just the sound of running water and the echoes of laughter.
My heart raced in my chest, and I struggled to make sense of the situation. Why was my mom locked in the bathroom with this stranger? Whatever was happening, I knew I needed to stay hidden and wait for the right moment to confront them. As fear gave way to determination, I steeled myself for what was to come, hoping that I'd be ready when the time arrived.
My heart pounded in my ears as I continued to hide under the table, watching the bathroom door intently. Suddenly, it swung open and there stood my mom, clad in a towel that barely covered her body. It clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. The man followed her out, wearing only his underwear, and sneered at her. "You're nothing but a whore," he spat, his words dripping with contempt.
"Shut up!" my mom snapped back, anger flashing in her eyes. But she didn't defend herself further, and instead turned her attention to the kitchen.
I could hardly breathe as I watched the two of them move through the room. My mom prepared lunch, her movements fluid and efficient despite the tension in the air. Meanwhile, the man lounged on a chair, smirking at her as if he owned the place. A cocktail of disbelief, fear, and rage churned inside me, but I knew I had to keep quiet and stay hidden.
"Come here," the man ordered, patting his lap as my mom carried a plate of food over to him. She hesitated for a moment before reluctantly sitting down, perching on his knee as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
"Here," she said quietly, holding up a forkful of food to his lips. He opened his mouth, letting her feed him while keeping his eyes locked on hers. The intimacy of the gesture made me want to scream, but I bit my tongue and willed myself to remain still.
This can't be happening, I thought, my mind racing. This isn't my mom - she would never do something like this! And yet, there she was, sitting on this stranger's lap and catering to his every whim. What had led her to this point? Was she being forced or threatened, or had she willingly chosen this path?
"Delicious," the man said sarcastically, smirking as he chewed. "You're a good cook, at least."
"Thanks," my mom muttered, her voice strained.
I couldn't take it any longer. As the anger inside me reached its boiling point, I knew I had to do something - anything - to put an end to this nightmare. But what? And how could I face my mom after witnessing such a scene? My thoughts raced, searching for answers as I remained hidden beneath the table, dreading the moment when I would finally have to confront the truth.
The man's fingers slipped beneath the edge of my mom's towel, a sinister grin on his face. I watched from under the table, heart pounding in my chest and anger boiling within me as he slowly peeled it away from her body, leaving her completely exposed to his leering gaze.
"Let's give your friend a real show, shall we?" He taunted, pulling out his phone and initiating a video call. My mom stood there, her eyes filled with humiliation, but she didn't resist. Instead, she seemed to steel herself for what was about to happen.
"Hey, look who's here!" The man exclaimed to whoever was on the other end of the call, angling the camera to ensure my mom was fully visible. "Isn't she a sight?"
"Jesus, man," the voice on the call responded, sounding just as crude as the man in our home. "You weren't kidding when you said she'd do anything for you."
I clenched my fists under the table, trying to process the barrage of emotions that surged through me. Betrayal, disgust, confusion – and above all, a desperate need to make it stop. But what could I do? How could I intervene without causing even more harm?
The man made a series of demands, instructing my mom to pose provocatively for the camera while he snapped photo after photo. Each click of the shutter felt like a dagger in my heart, a sickening reminder of the scene unfolding before me. My mom obeyed each command, her face a mixture of shame and determination. It seemed as if she'd accepted her role in this twisted game, but I couldn't help but wonder why.
"Enough teasing," the man said eventually, ending the video call and tossing his phone onto the couch. "Time for the main event."
My stomach churned as I watched my mom sink to her knees before him, her eyes never leaving his as she began to perform the lewd act he'd demanded. The man's laughter filled the air, a cruel reminder of the power he held over her.
"Look at you," he sneered. "You really are nothing more than a whore."
My mom's eyes flashed with what seemed like defiance for a brief moment, but she said nothing in response. Instead, she continued her task, her face a mask of humiliation and resignation.
I couldn't take it anymore. As much as I wanted to burst out from my hiding spot and confront them, I knew that doing so would only make things worse. For now, all I could do was watch in silent heartbreak, praying for a way to save my mom – and our family – from this nightmare.
My heart pounded in my chest as I continued to watch from my hiding spot under the table, the air heavy with tension and the lingering scent of their twisted desires. My mom's face was flushed and streaked with tears, but she tried her best to maintain a façade of acceptance.
"Is this all you've got?" the man taunted, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're even more pathetic than I thought."
"Please," my mom whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm doing everything you want."
"Fine, let's see if you can handle this," he spat out, suddenly kicking her in the face. The force of the blow sent her sprawling onto the floor, a cry of pain escaping her lips.
"Time for your shower, whore," he sneered, unzipping his jeans and proceeding to urinate on her. My stomach clenched in disgust at the sight, but my mom didn't resist. Instead, she rinsed her mouth willingly, as if accepting this degrading treatment as part of her punishment.
What is going on? Why is she letting him do this to her? I wondered, my thoughts racing as I tried to make sense of the horrific scene unfolding before me.
"Get on your hands and knees," he ordered, then added with a sinister grin, "and clean up this mess with your tongue."
My mom hesitated for a moment, but eventually began to lick the urine-soaked floor, her sobs muffled by the taste of his degradation. The man positioned himself behind her, grabbing a handful of her hair and forcing her head down further as he entered her roughly.
"Such a good little dog," he mocked, his thrusts forceful and unforgiving. "You really know your place, don't you?"
I could hardly bear to watch anymore, my vision blurring with tears as I struggled to process the humiliation my mom was enduring. How had it come to this? What could I do to save her from this nightmare?
"Enough," the man panted, his breath ragged as he pulled away from her. "You're lucky I don't have more time today."
"Thank you," my mom whispered, her voice trembling with relief and shame.
"Remember, this is your life now," he warned, zipping up his jeans and heading for the door. "And if you ever forget that, I won't hesitate to remind you just how low you truly are."
As the front door slammed shut behind him, I remained hidden, my mind reeling from the horrifying reality of what I'd just witnessed. My mom – the woman I'd always known as loving and devoted – was trapped in a situation I couldn't even begin to understand. And as much as I wanted to help her, I knew that doing so would require confronting some hard truths about our family and the darkness lurking beneath the surface.
But first, I needed to find a way to talk to her, to let her know that I saw everything and that we needed to work together to escape this nightmare. The thought terrified me, but I couldn't stand by any longer and watch my mom suffer at the hands of this monster.
"Alright, let's give your friend a show," the man sneered, grabbing my mom by the arm and roughly pulling her toward the bed. She stumbled, trying to regain her footing, tears streaming down her face mixed with the remnants of the degrading act she had just endured.
"Please," she choked out, her voice barely audible. "Don't do this."
"Shut up!" he barked, shoving her onto the bed. "You're going to do exactly what I tell you, understand?"
My heart raced as I watched from my hiding spot, feeling a toxic mix of anger, fear, and helplessness. I wished more than anything that I could do something to intervene, but I knew that it would only put both of us in greater danger. Instead, all I could do was bear witness to the horrors unfolding before me.
The man grabbed his phone and began a video call. As soon as the other man appeared on screen, he hurled insults at my mom, laughing cruelly as he did so. My mom winced with every word, her humiliation deepening by the second.
"Look at this pathetic creature," he said, positioning the camera to give the other man a full view of my mom's trembling form. "She's not even worth the dirt on my shoes."
"Your shoes?" the other man scoffed over the video call. "I wouldn't even let her touch my garbage."
"Right," the first man agreed, smirking. "Now, let's see just how low she can go."
I clenched my fists as I watched them force my mom into a series of humiliating positions, each one more demeaning than the last. Every time she hesitated or tried to resist, they shouted threats and obscenities at her until she complied.
As the sickening scene continued, I felt a surge of determination rising within me. I couldn't just sit here and do nothing. I had to find a way to put an end to this nightmare once and for all.
"Please stop," my mom sobbed, her voice breaking as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
"Stop?" the man on the video call sneered. "You really think you have any say in what happens here?"
"Get used to it," the first man taunted, his eyes filled with malice. "This is your life now."
As those chilling words echoed in my ears, I knew that I had to take action. I needed to find a way to confront my mom about what was happening and convince her that together, we could escape this horrifying reality. But first, I would have to face my own fears and gather the courage to step out from the shadows and into the light.
The sunlight streamed through the open doors of the house, casting a harsh glare on the scene unfolding before me. I could feel the heat of the sun's rays on my skin as if they were trying to sear away the repulsive images from my memory.
"Abdul again, I want more, harder!" my mom cried out, her voice a mix of pain and desperation. My heart clenched at the sound, but there was nothing I could do but watch.
"Ha! You can't get enough, can you?" Abdul sneered, his eyes cold and merciless as he continued to violate her.
"Please… stop…" I whispered under my breath, feeling as powerless as my mom looked in that moment.
"Is this what you really want?" Abdul called out mockingly, making it clear he had no intention of stopping.
"Y-yes," my mom choked out, her tears streaming down her face. It felt like a dagger through my heart, seeing her so broken and humiliated.
"Pathetic," Abdul spat, increasing the intensity of his movements. My mom's cries grew louder, and I knew that I couldn't just stand idly by any longer.
I need to do something, anything to make this stop, I thought, panic and determination coursing through my veins. But how? What could I possibly do to put an end to this nightmare?
"Go on, beg for it," Abdul taunted, smirking cruelly as my mom sobbed beneath him.
"Please… more…" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of my own heart. I wanted to scream, to shout at them to stop, but fear held me back. What if they turned their violence on me as well?
As I cowered behind the doorframe, watching my mom suffer, I realized that I could no longer live in fear. I needed to take action, to stand up for her and myself. My resolve hardened, and I knew that no matter the consequences, I would find a way to free us both from this hellish existence.
"Abdul, please," my mom whimpered, her voice growing weaker with every passing moment. "Can't you see you're hurting me?"
"Of course, I can," he snarled in response. "And that's just how I like it."
That was the breaking point - I could no longer bear to watch this unfold. As I stepped out of the shadows, I knew there was no going back. Whatever happened next, at least I would be able to say that I didn't stand by and do nothing while my mom was being tortured. But what if she is willing to do all this?
The sight of Abdul towering over my mom, his eyes filled with rage and cruelty, was burned into my memory forever. The room seemed to have grown colder, the air heavy with dread.
"Swallow it," Abdul ordered harshly, gripping my mom's throat as she choked on his semen. "That's what you're good for, isn't it?"
"Please, no more," she gasped, tears streaming down her face. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I struggled to hold back my anger.
"Shut up!" he snapped, slapping her across the face once more before delivering a swift kick to her backside. My heart raced, my whole body trembling with fury and fear.
"Remember this feeling," he spat at
her, hurling more insults as he started to get dressed. "You need to toughen up if you want me to come back and do this again." His words were like daggers, slicing through any hope that remained.
*
"Goodbye, you pathetic excuse for a woman," Abdul sneered as he finished dressing, leaving my mom broken and sobbing on the floor.
The scent of incense wafted through the air, mingling with the faint aroma of freshly made sweets. My mom was always one for devotion and spiritual practices, which is why the sight of a motorbike parked outside our home seemed so incongruous. It stood there, a sleek black machine, contrasting sharply against the serenity of our house, where my mom spent most of her time in prayer or working on her various puja rituals.
"Mom?" I called out as I stepped inside, my voice tentative, unsure if she'd even be able to hear me over the sound of her own prayers. There was no response. The silence that greeted me felt heavy, almost oppressive, spreading through the house like a fog.
"Mom!" I tried again, louder this time. Still nothing. A knot formed in my stomach as my mind raced with possibilities. Was she okay? Had something happened? And who did that motorbike belong to?
"Hello?" I ventured further into the house, approaching the small room where my mom usually conducted her pujas. The door was ajar, revealing the familiar sight of the altar adorned with flowers and the flickering flame of an oil lamp. But my mom was nowhere to be found.
"Is anybody here?" I continued my search, feeling a growing sense of unease as each room turned up empty. The motorbike outside nagged at me, its presence becoming more ominous by the second.
I hesitated for a moment, feeling a mixture of confusion and disbelief. My mom? Talking to this man? It didn't make sense. But as I turned and made my way to the kitchen, part of me couldn't help but wonder if there was more to my mom's quiet, devout life than I had ever realized.
As I stepped through the open front door, the sound of laughter echoed through the house, bouncing off the walls and filling me with a sense of growing unease. It was a man's laughter – deep and unfamiliar, it felt out of place in our quiet, orderly home. The bathroom door was shut tight, and I couldn't shake the feeling that something was amiss.
"Mom?" My voice came out as a whisper, barely audible over the pounding of my heart. The laughter continued, punctuated by the splashing of water. What was going on? Who could be in there with her?
"Mom!" I called out, unable to remain silent any longer. There was no answer, just the sound of running water and the echoes of laughter.
My heart raced in my chest, and I struggled to make sense of the situation. Why was my mom locked in the bathroom with this stranger? Whatever was happening, I knew I needed to stay hidden and wait for the right moment to confront them. As fear gave way to determination, I steeled myself for what was to come, hoping that I'd be ready when the time arrived.
My heart pounded in my ears as I continued to hide under the table, watching the bathroom door intently. Suddenly, it swung open and there stood my mom, clad in a towel that barely covered her body. It clung to her curves, leaving little to the imagination. The man followed her out, wearing only his underwear, and sneered at her. "You're nothing but a whore," he spat, his words dripping with contempt.
"Shut up!" my mom snapped back, anger flashing in her eyes. But she didn't defend herself further, and instead turned her attention to the kitchen.
I could hardly breathe as I watched the two of them move through the room. My mom prepared lunch, her movements fluid and efficient despite the tension in the air. Meanwhile, the man lounged on a chair, smirking at her as if he owned the place. A cocktail of disbelief, fear, and rage churned inside me, but I knew I had to keep quiet and stay hidden.
"Come here," the man ordered, patting his lap as my mom carried a plate of food over to him. She hesitated for a moment before reluctantly sitting down, perching on his knee as he wrapped an arm around her waist.
"Here," she said quietly, holding up a forkful of food to his lips. He opened his mouth, letting her feed him while keeping his eyes locked on hers. The intimacy of the gesture made me want to scream, but I bit my tongue and willed myself to remain still.
This can't be happening, I thought, my mind racing. This isn't my mom - she would never do something like this! And yet, there she was, sitting on this stranger's lap and catering to his every whim. What had led her to this point? Was she being forced or threatened, or had she willingly chosen this path?
"Delicious," the man said sarcastically, smirking as he chewed. "You're a good cook, at least."
"Thanks," my mom muttered, her voice strained.
I couldn't take it any longer. As the anger inside me reached its boiling point, I knew I had to do something - anything - to put an end to this nightmare. But what? And how could I face my mom after witnessing such a scene? My thoughts raced, searching for answers as I remained hidden beneath the table, dreading the moment when I would finally have to confront the truth.
The man's fingers slipped beneath the edge of my mom's towel, a sinister grin on his face. I watched from under the table, heart pounding in my chest and anger boiling within me as he slowly peeled it away from her body, leaving her completely exposed to his leering gaze.
"Let's give your friend a real show, shall we?" He taunted, pulling out his phone and initiating a video call. My mom stood there, her eyes filled with humiliation, but she didn't resist. Instead, she seemed to steel herself for what was about to happen.
"Hey, look who's here!" The man exclaimed to whoever was on the other end of the call, angling the camera to ensure my mom was fully visible. "Isn't she a sight?"
"Jesus, man," the voice on the call responded, sounding just as crude as the man in our home. "You weren't kidding when you said she'd do anything for you."
I clenched my fists under the table, trying to process the barrage of emotions that surged through me. Betrayal, disgust, confusion – and above all, a desperate need to make it stop. But what could I do? How could I intervene without causing even more harm?
The man made a series of demands, instructing my mom to pose provocatively for the camera while he snapped photo after photo. Each click of the shutter felt like a dagger in my heart, a sickening reminder of the scene unfolding before me. My mom obeyed each command, her face a mixture of shame and determination. It seemed as if she'd accepted her role in this twisted game, but I couldn't help but wonder why.
"Enough teasing," the man said eventually, ending the video call and tossing his phone onto the couch. "Time for the main event."
My stomach churned as I watched my mom sink to her knees before him, her eyes never leaving his as she began to perform the lewd act he'd demanded. The man's laughter filled the air, a cruel reminder of the power he held over her.
"Look at you," he sneered. "You really are nothing more than a whore."
My mom's eyes flashed with what seemed like defiance for a brief moment, but she said nothing in response. Instead, she continued her task, her face a mask of humiliation and resignation.
I couldn't take it anymore. As much as I wanted to burst out from my hiding spot and confront them, I knew that doing so would only make things worse. For now, all I could do was watch in silent heartbreak, praying for a way to save my mom – and our family – from this nightmare.
My heart pounded in my chest as I continued to watch from my hiding spot under the table, the air heavy with tension and the lingering scent of their twisted desires. My mom's face was flushed and streaked with tears, but she tried her best to maintain a façade of acceptance.
"Is this all you've got?" the man taunted, his voice dripping with contempt. "You're even more pathetic than I thought."
"Please," my mom whispered, her voice barely audible. "I'm doing everything you want."
"Fine, let's see if you can handle this," he spat out, suddenly kicking her in the face. The force of the blow sent her sprawling onto the floor, a cry of pain escaping her lips.
"Time for your shower, whore," he sneered, unzipping his jeans and proceeding to urinate on her. My stomach clenched in disgust at the sight, but my mom didn't resist. Instead, she rinsed her mouth willingly, as if accepting this degrading treatment as part of her punishment.
What is going on? Why is she letting him do this to her? I wondered, my thoughts racing as I tried to make sense of the horrific scene unfolding before me.
"Get on your hands and knees," he ordered, then added with a sinister grin, "and clean up this mess with your tongue."
My mom hesitated for a moment, but eventually began to lick the urine-soaked floor, her sobs muffled by the taste of his degradation. The man positioned himself behind her, grabbing a handful of her hair and forcing her head down further as he entered her roughly.
"Such a good little dog," he mocked, his thrusts forceful and unforgiving. "You really know your place, don't you?"
I could hardly bear to watch anymore, my vision blurring with tears as I struggled to process the humiliation my mom was enduring. How had it come to this? What could I do to save her from this nightmare?
"Enough," the man panted, his breath ragged as he pulled away from her. "You're lucky I don't have more time today."
"Thank you," my mom whispered, her voice trembling with relief and shame.
"Remember, this is your life now," he warned, zipping up his jeans and heading for the door. "And if you ever forget that, I won't hesitate to remind you just how low you truly are."
As the front door slammed shut behind him, I remained hidden, my mind reeling from the horrifying reality of what I'd just witnessed. My mom – the woman I'd always known as loving and devoted – was trapped in a situation I couldn't even begin to understand. And as much as I wanted to help her, I knew that doing so would require confronting some hard truths about our family and the darkness lurking beneath the surface.
But first, I needed to find a way to talk to her, to let her know that I saw everything and that we needed to work together to escape this nightmare. The thought terrified me, but I couldn't stand by any longer and watch my mom suffer at the hands of this monster.
"Alright, let's give your friend a show," the man sneered, grabbing my mom by the arm and roughly pulling her toward the bed. She stumbled, trying to regain her footing, tears streaming down her face mixed with the remnants of the degrading act she had just endured.
"Please," she choked out, her voice barely audible. "Don't do this."
"Shut up!" he barked, shoving her onto the bed. "You're going to do exactly what I tell you, understand?"
My heart raced as I watched from my hiding spot, feeling a toxic mix of anger, fear, and helplessness. I wished more than anything that I could do something to intervene, but I knew that it would only put both of us in greater danger. Instead, all I could do was bear witness to the horrors unfolding before me.
The man grabbed his phone and began a video call. As soon as the other man appeared on screen, he hurled insults at my mom, laughing cruelly as he did so. My mom winced with every word, her humiliation deepening by the second.
"Look at this pathetic creature," he said, positioning the camera to give the other man a full view of my mom's trembling form. "She's not even worth the dirt on my shoes."
"Your shoes?" the other man scoffed over the video call. "I wouldn't even let her touch my garbage."
"Right," the first man agreed, smirking. "Now, let's see just how low she can go."
I clenched my fists as I watched them force my mom into a series of humiliating positions, each one more demeaning than the last. Every time she hesitated or tried to resist, they shouted threats and obscenities at her until she complied.
As the sickening scene continued, I felt a surge of determination rising within me. I couldn't just sit here and do nothing. I had to find a way to put an end to this nightmare once and for all.
"Please stop," my mom sobbed, her voice breaking as the tears flowed freely down her cheeks.
"Stop?" the man on the video call sneered. "You really think you have any say in what happens here?"
"Get used to it," the first man taunted, his eyes filled with malice. "This is your life now."
As those chilling words echoed in my ears, I knew that I had to take action. I needed to find a way to confront my mom about what was happening and convince her that together, we could escape this horrifying reality. But first, I would have to face my own fears and gather the courage to step out from the shadows and into the light.
The sunlight streamed through the open doors of the house, casting a harsh glare on the scene unfolding before me. I could feel the heat of the sun's rays on my skin as if they were trying to sear away the repulsive images from my memory.
"Abdul again, I want more, harder!" my mom cried out, her voice a mix of pain and desperation. My heart clenched at the sound, but there was nothing I could do but watch.
"Ha! You can't get enough, can you?" Abdul sneered, his eyes cold and merciless as he continued to violate her.
"Please… stop…" I whispered under my breath, feeling as powerless as my mom looked in that moment.
"Is this what you really want?" Abdul called out mockingly, making it clear he had no intention of stopping.
"Y-yes," my mom choked out, her tears streaming down her face. It felt like a dagger through my heart, seeing her so broken and humiliated.
"Pathetic," Abdul spat, increasing the intensity of his movements. My mom's cries grew louder, and I knew that I couldn't just stand idly by any longer.
I need to do something, anything to make this stop, I thought, panic and determination coursing through my veins. But how? What could I possibly do to put an end to this nightmare?
"Go on, beg for it," Abdul taunted, smirking cruelly as my mom sobbed beneath him.
"Please… more…" she whispered, her voice barely audible over the pounding of my own heart. I wanted to scream, to shout at them to stop, but fear held me back. What if they turned their violence on me as well?
As I cowered behind the doorframe, watching my mom suffer, I realized that I could no longer live in fear. I needed to take action, to stand up for her and myself. My resolve hardened, and I knew that no matter the consequences, I would find a way to free us both from this hellish existence.
"Abdul, please," my mom whimpered, her voice growing weaker with every passing moment. "Can't you see you're hurting me?"
"Of course, I can," he snarled in response. "And that's just how I like it."
That was the breaking point - I could no longer bear to watch this unfold. As I stepped out of the shadows, I knew there was no going back. Whatever happened next, at least I would be able to say that I didn't stand by and do nothing while my mom was being tortured. But what if she is willing to do all this?
The sight of Abdul towering over my mom, his eyes filled with rage and cruelty, was burned into my memory forever. The room seemed to have grown colder, the air heavy with dread.
"Swallow it," Abdul ordered harshly, gripping my mom's throat as she choked on his semen. "That's what you're good for, isn't it?"
"Please, no more," she gasped, tears streaming down her face. I clenched my fists, my nails digging into my palms as I struggled to hold back my anger.
"Shut up!" he snapped, slapping her across the face once more before delivering a swift kick to her backside. My heart raced, my whole body trembling with fury and fear.
"Remember this feeling," he spat at
her, hurling more insults as he started to get dressed. "You need to toughen up if you want me to come back and do this again." His words were like daggers, slicing through any hope that remained.
*
"Goodbye, you pathetic excuse for a woman," Abdul sneered as he finished dressing, leaving my mom broken and sobbing on the floor.
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