Sweven

Her eyes were burning red with rage and fury. She sensed the burning anger within herself that was slowly growing. The two men in front of her were drunk and they were smirking at her, calling her vulgar names. Her hair was done up in a messy bun. Her face was pretty angular for a 15-year old. Her saree was draped in the form of a dhoti. The pallu of her saree was torn. Suddenly, the men heard a click of something sharp. Before they realised what sound that was, one of them had a knife in his right eye. The girl did not think about taking the knife out. She had other business to do. Her hair was pulled by the other person. The man screamed, “You bitch! How dare you? At least surrender your body to us, like your mother did. Nothing will change the fact that she was a slave to us and died of AIDS five years back.” The girl saw a lathi in the corner of the room. The same lathi, that was used by them to beat her own mother. She dragged herself to it as the man kept pulling her hair backwards. She took the stick and gave a strong whip on the man’s hand. The man cried in pain. The other man was losing a lot of blood. She stood in front of him and took out the dagger, a centimetre a moment. When she was done taking out the knife, she used the knife to carve a word into their palms. She made sure the knife went deep. She wrote ‘SLAVE’. “You animals, now you know who the real slave is,” she said, twisting their fingers till the bones broke.

“You will die, but what’s the fun without some pain, bastards?”