[garamrohan]

There was no wet dream for me that night. I was wide awake, masturbating furiously into a handkerchief until I cummed. The memory of the bathroom; the sights, the strong smell had haunted me. Closing my eyes offered no escape; my mind kept constructing graphic, torturous images of what that bastard Rambo guy had done to my mummy. 


I lay there resting, my chest heaving as sweat dried on my forehead. Exhausted by the release, I didn't even have the energy to get up and wash the dirty handkerchief. I simply tossed it aside, my eyelids growing heavy. 

Strangely, the guilt didn't come this time. Had Aditya’s words triggered the shift? It was highly likely. I was becoming resistant to carrying an overwhelming emotional burden. Instead of trying to suppress the powerful emotions erupting inside me, I was learning to accept them; and that included accepting my unnatural arousal. It was wrong, I knew that, but I needed to be kind to myself. These dark impulses weren't born of a filthy imagination; they were my subconscious mind's reaction to the terrible reality unfolding around me. I can’t fight right now, I realized. But I shouldn’t flee or lose hope either, my inner voice whispered. Until the right opportunity presented itself, accepting the situation and its twisted impact on my desires was the only way to stay sane.

It became a routine after that. Every fifth day or so, Rambo would be roaming around our area; specifically near our house. Though his pretext was of begging, I knew exactly what he wanted. It was a wicked, undeniable truth: my mummy, a beautiful, dignified, middle-aged woman from a respectable family – a mother to grown children, including a married daughter – had become his sexual obsession. She was now the outlet for his twisted desires. Mummy’s voluptuous body and dignified grace aroused him, and knowing her desperate need to protect the family's honor ensured him that she would never cry out for help.  Mummy’s alluring features, paired with her inherently fearful nature, had turned her into his permanent target. Her own natural beauty had tragically turned into a curse. 
  
And so, every afternoon, right after college, my scanning began. Was Mummy asleep? Was she wearing a different saree? I couldn't stop myself from locking myself in the backyard bathroom for an unusually long time, obsessively hunting for evidence. And sometimes, my curiosity didn't stop at mere observation. And occasionally, my curiosity pushed me beyond just looking… anyway. 

– 

On the morning of February twenty-eighth, I was busy preparing for the final mock tests scheduled that week. I sat back in a lounge chair with a book in one hand and a bowl of corn snacks in the other. Mummy always made the tastiest, spiciest snacks, and as I flipped through my notes, I asked her to make some more while I finished the current bowlful. 

Then suddenly I saw him.

He passed by the road without stopping at our door. Maybe he’d spotted me. I couldn’t stop counting the days on my fingers; it had been six days since I last found traces of his visit. The bastard was practically in heat, driven by pure animal urgency. My stomach churned resulting in a tight ache. Should I even go to college today? A sudden, chaotic train of panic raced through my head. 


I stood up and walked into the kitchen. Mummy was busy packing my lunchbox, looking like an absolute goddess in her neatly pleated, simple saree. But the peaceful image shattered the moment I remembered the dark truth that this pure, dignified woman was being hunted by a predator. Rambo guy was out there somewhere, just waiting for me to leave for college. 

"Kh... Kh... Khana"

That voice echoed from the verandah and I startled to the core. The pan in Mummy's hand slipped, and the sabji (vegetable) spilled onto the counter. She didn't look back at me. She couldn’t. But I could read the sheer, suffocating fear radiating from her. Her hands trembled as she stared straight ahead, trying to hide her face. She knew exactly who it was. The Rambo guy had arrived : the unwanted companion; master of her private afternoons. 
 
I gathered all my courage and went outside.

“What do you want?” I spoke with a level of confidence and arrogance that surprised even me.

He startled slightly, and then recovered; to ask for food in his usual, mad language.

“There’s no food for you here. And don’t ever come back, do you understand?” I yelled at him, my eyes radiating all of my anger and frustration.

He turned on his heel and walked away immediately. That made me feel full of pride. I knew deep down that this small victory hadn't permanently saved Mummy; he would almost certainly return the moment I wasn't around. But it was a critical, bold first step toward my ultimate plan to eliminate him from our lives forever.

I left for college that morning with a happy heart. Mummy looked relieved, too. At the very least, I had neutralized the immediate danger.

–

“Mind you, Aditya, I’m scoring better than you in English this time,” I teased him right after today's English mock test wrapped up.
We were sitting together on a bench, sharing our tiffins.

“Let’s see,” he replied with his usual cool attitude. “You’ve looked relaxed these days, man. Keep it up. You’ll do wonders if you don’t let stress overburden you… whatever the reason behind it may be.”

I smiled, feeling a quiet surge of gratitude. We had just finished eating when the peon appeared with a notice: a half-day off. It was month-end, and we were free for the rest of the day.

“Hey, let’s go play cricket,” one of our friends suggested. Everyone agreed instantly except for me. I had already resolved not to play cricket until exams were over. My true motive, of course, was to spend as much time as possible at home protecting Mummy, so I couldn't just give in. I should probably just sit in the library and study, I reasoned.

“What’s wrong with you, Rohan? What else are you going to do with the rest of your day? Go home and help your mummy with the laundry?” one boy mocked, leading to a burst of laughter from the others.

But suddenly that comment struck my mind. It was 2:30 in the afternoon. If I rushed home right this second, I could act as a barrier against Rambo guy and shield my mummy for at least another day. I picked up my bag and hurried toward the exit, leaving them all behind without uttering a single word. 
 
—


My footsteps became light and cautious as I neared the house, as if the slightest sound might expose a terrible secret. The moment I stepped onto the verandah, my stomach ached. Dropped in one corner was Rambo's dirty sack. The realization hit me like a physical blow: I was too late. The predator was already cornering his prey.

My entire body shook. For the first time in my life, I was about to cross a line I had never dared to face. I knew that walking inside could be disastrous. Finding me there wouldn't help; instead, it would utterly torment Mummy’s soul if she knew her own son had witnessed her in such a compromised position. Yet, I couldn't fight the overwhelming desire to look. I had seen him mounting her down by the river ghat once before, but it had been from a distance. As shameful as it was to admit, I hadn't been able to see the act clearly back then, especially with Mummy lying flat and mostly out of my view.

The house was completely quiet, but then I heard a tiny sound. It was a soft rustling movement coming from my parents' bedroom. To get close enough to see what was happening, I had to walk to the kitchen first. I took tiny, careful steps, making sure my feet didn't make a slighted sound. My heart was beating so hard and fast that it actually hurt my chest, and the loud thumping sound filled my ears. I stopped right outside the room and held my breath, terrified that they would hear me. Slowly, I leaned my head toward the small crack in the half-closed door and looked inside. In that exact second, my eyes went wide, and I saw something so awful it completely froze me in place. What I saw inside that room wasn't just awful; it was a visual crime, an act so profoundly taboo and illicit that even looking at it should be punished in hell. 

But my eyes stretched wide, with excitement and curiosity as much as with fear and disgust I saw mummy lying there on the bed, and she looked so helpless. She did not have any of her regular clothes on. Her colorful saree, blouse, and undergarments were tossed all over the floor and the chairs like trash. The only thing she had to protect herself was a single, thin shawl. She held onto it with all her strength, wrapping it around her chest and stomach like a shield. She was shaking all over, with her watery eyes tightly closed, and trying her absolute best to cover up as much of her skin as possible. She just wanted to hide from the terrible person who had broken into her private room, and now was standing next to bed in all his natural state and a monstrous, ugly, sticky penis pulsating at his groin.