The Doll Diaries

"No!" , she screams. He slaps her hard on the mouth before she can utter another word. She struggles to remain conscious. It was harder that way but she had to fight. She had always been a fighter. She had fought for him once upon a time. Before she knew his ugliness. He was good to look at, fine features, something you'd put at home like a trophy or medal. The girls were numerous. She remembered how hard she had to try. To keep him satisfied. "Pleasure wins the heart of a man", they say. Sex. Food. Laughter. So she made it happen. She became all he needed. Porn star. Cook. Clown. She bled to his satisfaction. That wasn't what hurt her most. It was the fact he did not discourage the other girls. They would always come around. She remembered the days she'd burn with jealousy in silence. Watch him laugh with them like he never did with her. Those days, she'd hug her pillow while her heart cried to her the new jokes she'd tell him. No one knew her pain. No one saw her suffering. They all thought them to be a cute couple. Sometimes she cursed the gods for their wickedness. Making her love him. She questioned his delay. Why he hadn't asked her out yet. It was her prayer every night. Finally, the gods answered, they were tired of her prayers so they let her have what she wanted. Sometimes unanswered prayers are intended to protect us from our demise. Its just that we don't know we cannot read the minds of the gods, can we? We are too stubborn to understand. So she danced in the skies, she danced in the waters, she danced on the mountains, the night he asked her to be his girl. Probably it was her fault, maybe she just didn't see the need to try anymore. He started to talk. He started to complain. He started to shout. He started to hit her.She could never understand how fast things had changed. It had been a month and a day and she had begun to curse the day she was born. She wondered why she had been blinded or whether she had just refused to see. She lay now with her torn sad clothes, almost lifeless on the ground. Apart from today, she had been raped six times. Somewhere inside, her mad heart still sang, "I love him, I love him.." This was why she wouldn't leave. This was why she couldn't tell anyone. She hardly left the house. She could never explain the bruises that were forever on her body, the ones she couldn't hide. She only tended to her wounds to get hurt again. Sometimes she wondered why she bothered cleaning them at all. Worse were the scars that couldn't be seen. She was a damaged girl now, with so much hurt that drove her to madness. They were not married. It was just a relationship. Yet her life was no longer her own. She belonged to him now. His punch bag. His sex slave. His maid. She was only nineteen yet she felt so old. She finally let the tears flow. She never cried for herself. She wept for her family and all the people that had warned her. The ones she had ignored. The ones that truly loved her.