Angie looked sadly at the girl at the other side of her mirror. It was a matter of time. Seconds? Minutes?
Thump, thump, thump… The pounding on her door was getting louder and menacing.
She was motionless out of fear and shame.
-Open the door!
That morning, when she was alone on her way home from school, after having an argument with her boyfriend, she had been kidnapped. Just like that. Two men forced her into a car trunk, and nobody noticed what was happening.
Without telling her a single word, a strong, rude guy, pushed her to force her enter a house and then a room without windows.
She tried to ask where she was and what they wanted, but her captor slammed the door and left her alone. Her parents weren’t rich. She began to fear the worst.
Somebody, this time a woman, opened the door and tossed inside make up stuff and a provocative red dress.
-Get ready! You have twenty minutes!
-This can’t be happening to me, she thought, unable to react in any way. and wished to die.
Thump, thump, thump… Whoever was at the other side of the door was determined to enter.
-Wait a minute! Don’t they have keys of this room? Why aren’t they using them?
At the same moment that thought crossed her mind, the door went down with a loud crash.
She couldn’t believe what was happening. It was like a terrible nightmare and apparently it was time to awake.
But she was never going to be the same happy and carefree girl who went to school that morning. The look on the eyes of those people who have kept her for some hours that only saw in her a disposable thing, had left a deep wound in her soul.
It wasn’t her fault. She hadn’t do anything wrong. Why she was feeling so ashamed and dirty?
Later she learned that her boyfriend had followed her after their argument that morning to try to mend things, and witnessed her kidnapping. He alerted the police, and because of that the rescue was so fast.
-Look at me, said him months after, when she finally gathered the strength to meet him.
-Yes, you can! I want to see your eyes.
When she looked up, she meet the eyes of a man who didn’t look at her like a “thing.” Instead, the worried glance of a person trying to heal the broken soul of the love of his life.
For the first time since that horrible morning, she began to cry and her endless tears softened a little bit the terrible wound inside her.
The painting above is from artist Alia El-Bermani
2 thoughts on “The wound”
Very intense. I was on the edge of my seat. Well done.
Thank you, I hesitated between a post about anorexia and a story of action and chose the latter.