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Her name translates to hope

Her name translates to hope. Her looks are her strength. Her body is her specialised weapon. She didn’t know all of this until the life trapped her spirit. The unspiritual night life that fed off innocent souls and turned them. She was turned against her will. Snatched from her mothers protection and promised a better life for her family. She followed her childhood friend to the city because her friend had told her of boundless opportunities that the homelands could not offer. Opportunities that she deserved because she was smart. This is what her friend told her.

The honking and hooting, shoving and shouting. Street vendors crowding the sidewalks and litter swamping  the streets. It was a complete culture shock for her. The sun set on her first day and the night was ablaze with city lights. She stared out the window with awe in her eyes. Staring from inside the room of the two story building her friend had brought her to. The bottom floor had a bar, dance floor and tables. This portion was populated by men with a few ladies engaged in flirty conversations with some of them. The top floor, the floor with the rooms, was occupied by females. They would momentarily visit the bottom floor and come back up with a male companion. She found this bizarre but her excitement sidetracked her curiosity. The promise of a better life was ringing in her mind.

Three weeks had passed and she was growing weary of waiting and watching her friend come and go. The strange behaviour she had been observing from the participants of this bar slash hotel was beginning to worry her mind. Her friends’ sleep-outs and constant disappearances were also causing suspicions in her mind. The better life she had followed was not turning out as she had envisioned. She told her friend she wanted to go back home. Her friend was okay with that. She asked her friend for transport money, this was not okay. Out of a Jekyll and Hyde novel, her friend pulled a complete about turn. The friendship fizzled in front of her eyes as she was told nothing comes for free in the city. This is when her options were broken down to her. Sell what your mama gave you, or get out and find your own way home. She had not been allowed to leave the building since her arrival so she didn’t know her way around. She was never even allowed to make any calls to her mother whom she missed with all her heart. She spent six days on her own, sleeping in the buildings corridors. The other girls would humiliate her constantly. Throwing left-over’s at her feet. Laughing and taunting at her innocence while flashing money in her face. Feeling trapped and alone and without hope, she felt she had no choice but to ask her friends forgiveness and surrender to demands brought down upon her.

She had never seduced a man before. Her friend was a master of seduction. She had never been with a man before. Her friend had international experience. Candles and incense were lit. Romantic  love songs played delicately to the background of the sounds heard every night in the city. A cold breeze seeped through the broken window from which she first set her eyes on the bright city lights. They seemed dim on this particular night.  The faint smell of cum and condoms which she had grown accustomed to every day, was now reeking in her nostrils. Her senses were fired up with the realisation of what she was about to do. She looked at herself in the mirror for the last time, fixing her hair and make-up one more time. If this was to be her first time it had to be special, regardless of the circumstances.  After taking a gentle whiff of her perfume she sat on the edge of the bed, waiting.

The key clinked as it turned inside the lock like the sound of prison cells. She was an inmate, guilty without charge. The  door creaked open followed by a musky smell. The smell of a husband who was out too late for a weekday. His medium built figure did not impose a threat to her as he sauntered over to her side of the bed. Her friend peeped through the door and winked at her, gave her a thumbs up and pulled the door closed again. Husband and young girl exchanged pleasantries. Husband was in no mood for small talk though. He still had a wife and kids to get back to. As she continued to speak, he began to feel. The sudden trembling in her speech indicated that she was uncomfortable with the situation. She continued to babble on in a bid to put him off but he was determined. Piece by piece he dissected her clothes while kissing and sucking her skin in-between. He observed her trembling body which seemed to turn him on stronger. Pushing her flat on the bed, he unhinged his belt buckle, unzipped his pants and allowed them to drop with a small thud. She had her breast and vagina covered with her tiny hands hoping he would disappear and it would turn out to be a dream. Or a nightmare rather. But this nightmare was not going away. Husband was animalistic at this point and ripped her tender hands to the side. He pinned her down and entered her with force. She moaned with excruciating pain as he salivated and panted like a rabid dog. It was over in three and a half minutes. The most painful three and half minutes of her life.

Husband made his way to the bathroom sink to rinse the blood off his member. She was still trembling all over and had pulled the bed sheet over her naked body. It had dark red stains in one particular spot that she hadn’t noticed yet. Husband came out the bathroom sauntering towards his pants on the floor. He picked them up still panting slightly but a with slight satisfaction to his demeanour. He buckled his belt, zipped up his pants and reached into the left back pocket to pull out his wallet. His Fingers pinched a Fifty rand note and placed it coolly on the bedside table. Her eyes stood transfixed on the top corner of the wall as if hypnotised. She didn’t notice him placing the money, or kissing her on the forehead, or walking out the room bidding her farewell.

She would learn to internalise the pain until she felt nothing she didn’t want to feel. She would learn to seduce men for their own pleasure in return for boarding and food and alcohol . She would learn to lie about her profession and simultaneously lie about her true identity. Neither one necessitated the other. Her name translates to hope. Her looks are her strength. Her body is the specialised weapon. She learnt all of this when her spirit became the life
Written by the_good_guy
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