Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta rape. Mostrar todas las entradas
Mostrando las entradas con la etiqueta rape. Mostrar todas las entradas

miércoles, 3 de junio de 2015

Hate crime

   Rose was now terrified to come out of her house. She just couldn’t even think about it without having a serious breakdown. That’s why she had moved with her parents, in order for her to be under their watch every day, at every time. Just after the attack, she had attempted to kill herself in the hospital but she had failed due to the attention of the nurses and that she wasn’t in any real danger. But at home, anything could happen. Her mother was scared the moment Rosa asked if she could help making dinner. At first she would only let her do silly things, like break the leaves out of a lettuce or open a can or a bottle of something. No knives or other pointy objects.

 But after a year, Rose’s state of mind had improved except for her fear of the outside world. Inside, in any day, she would laugh at TV shows, share stories with her dad, gossip with her mom and even talk on her computer with some old friends. Even her former boss was thinking of letting her into the company again, working remotely of course. Because she just couldn’t take a step outside. Instantly she would start screaming and fighting anyone who helped her try some more steps or pulled her back in.

 You see, Rose had been attacked a year ago and she had been left seriously affected by it. Not only was she raped, but she had also being kicked, punched and dragged into a dark corner of the world by two men. It was understandable the amount of fear she had inside and it was remarkable that she had been able to get better, as much as she had been, on her own on such a short amount of time. Other victims took much more time and some never recuperated from their attacks. Rose did because she had always been a fighter but somehow the outside world was now her most dreadful fear. She couldn’t even stare at the windows, day or night. She just thought of it all again, even felt it all again and she did not wanted that to happen ever.

 Her parents understood her situation; after all it had been them who had taken care of her since she was a baby. She had always been such a happy, free kid, the kind that would ask for money and then go alone to the nearby store and buy some candy. She would play with many of her friends in the park, even leading them in many of their games. She had always been the leader, the one people looked at for guidance. It had been like that in school and in college but now there was no trace of that Rose in her. Her fear had finished of that vivacious and strong women for another that was also strong but not so much compared to the past. She had been struck off many things that day and now she couldn’t even have a real life on her own because of her fear.

 She saw Victoria once a week. Victoria was a psychiatrist specialized in this sort of cases and she was very interested in Rose as she was the only patient of hers that had improve so much in some areas and so little in others. With special gadgets and experiments, they would try for Rose to be more acceptant of the exterior world but all of that always resulted in a huge failure. No matter if it was a blindfolded test or a session trying to confront her with the attack, it was always a traumatic experience. Rose trusted Veronica so she would often ask for forgiveness for her behavior but Veronica always hugged her and told Rose never to apologize for what happened or its results. None of that was her fault and she should only be thinking on getting better.

 And Rose did try. She started cooking cupcakes at home, as a therapy to get more and more relaxed. Her boss finally passed her proposal to work from home so she decided to change her life altogether and asked her parents if they would be with her on the creation of a small business selling her cupcakes and other desserts. They started selling for the neighborhood but soon expanded to have a proper store in their garage. This had made Rose very anxious because the store had been a success and many people came in, making her nervous. But her mother and her father helped so she would always be in control of herself, selling her delicious goods and making a life for herself.

 However, she wasn’t going to live alone or anything. Her parents and her had thought of several ways to move out to a small apartment but it was more problems than conveniences. For one, she wouldn’t be able to tend the store from a small apartment, she would be alone most of the time and, most importantly, there was no way to get there without her having a mental meltdown. The thought of blindfolding her or transport her asleep but it was all too complicated. She decided to stay at home and just be creative with her business. A friend from work decided to join her in the business, as the demand had risen dramatically. Her father was in charge of the numbers and her mother of the promotion. It was a truly good family business and that made her happy.

 Her happiness, however, didn’t last for a long time. A man arrived one day to the store and he said he was with the police. Rose and her parents talked to him in the living room and heard some news that left them without words: Rose’s attacker had finally been arrested and they needed for her to identify him. Trying not to panic, Rose started breathing slowly, obviously trying hard not to lose it right there. Her father explained to the men that she wasn’t going to be able to go to the precinct or to any courthouse for that matter. He explained his daughter’s situation and the men said nothing more. He just shook their hands and left. That was a very difficult night for Rose: she didn’t sleep, not even for a couple of minutes. She kept thinking about it and trying not to scream, trying to think about anything else other than the policeman’s visit.

But the police called again and even came back with a lawyer, the attacker’s lawyer. They said that if Rose was not going to be able to go to court and properly accuse him, then they could reach a settlement for compensation or at least bargain in some way. It was Rose’s mother who kicked them out of the house. She yelled at them that they were rats and that they had no shame in coming to a house to tell someone to shut up instead of helping the real victim. When the police called again, they told them they had done it all when she had been attacked, everything had been filed and properly done but the police explained they had to sue him, as they previously had not captured him.

 The family called for help, a brother of Rose’s father who was a lawyer. He helped Rose by making the police release a picture of the man they had in custody. That way, she got to confirm it was one of the men that had attacked her. Yes, because the police thought it had been only one but she knew the other one had stood there, watching, doing nothing at all. For now, Rose’s uncle did everything he could to avoid her the pain of seeing him face to face. The trial’s date was set and for Rose it was a torture to wait until then. Her uncle guaranteed her presence via webcam, having been authorized to do it like that. But Rose wasn’t even sure she could do it that way either. Just thinking about it made her tremble and have goose bumps. Her body ached everyday and she had no energy to make a single cupcake.

 The day of the trial, she cried and almost lost control as she told her story to the jury. The most difficult part of it all was answering the questions; especially those that questioned that things had happened as she said they had happened. Being doubted was the worst feeling, being treated like a crazy person or a liar. She repeated the words the man had said to her and had to be excused for a moment while she collected herself again and waited for the resolution, which didn’t happened until the next day. The trial wasn’t long as the evidence was all against the man. Everyone knew he had lied and had made family and friends lie for him.

 The judge stated that this crime was a hate crime. They had investigated the man further and discovered he had almost beaten her wife to death and had even attacked his own sister after finding out she was a lesbian. The man was sick, letting his hate for everyone that live a nice life driving him to make the most awful things. He was sentenced to life in prison and Rose heard that live, feeling confused. Because she knew that it hadn’t all finished there. Her fear, her panic at the exterior world was still there. What good was this all if was still as scared as before? The fact that her attacker was in jail didn’t make things suddenly better.


 But one thing Veronica and her parents agreed was that they were grateful she was there to live on, to make an effort and keep on living. Because many died and didn’t get the chance to try again, to transform their lives. She couldn’t really consider herself lucky but she had the opportunity of being someone again, in time. She reprised her business, which grew with time. She wanted to be better and knew that someday, she would be able to go the park and just sit there and breathe.

miércoles, 11 de marzo de 2015

The Shadow

   Weapon of choice? Well, he never really needed one. Every single job he was asked to do, he did it with his hands. He had learned most martial arts techniques and many other ways to kill without the use of weaponry. It was dangerous when he encountered armed victims, but nothing that speed and wit couldn’t solve. People were always scared when he appeared, apparently out of nowhere. He was practically and urban legend, the silent assassin. His real name was Gideon.

 But that name had been long forgotten, as he was not that person anymore. Now, he only went by his nickname, Shadow. It suited him, as every person that hired him knew of his skills and ability to make anyone his victim. Not even the strongest or smartest had escaped. He collected bounty for his work and disappeared, never working for the same person more than once in a year. If he was to attract the attention of the authorities, he had to keep his outings to a minimal.

 The rest of the time, he just kept on training and lead a quite life away from all the turmoil of the city. Thanks to his grandparents, he owned a farm, which sold milk and other diary products to local stores. In the farm, he lived only with the animals and no one else. He had decided, long ago, that he didn’t want to endanger anyone else due to his secret life. Besides, he had never felt a connection with anyone so pulling the plug on romance and a relationship wasn’t all that difficult.

 One night, the Shadow was hired to kill a corrupt policeman hat had escaped justice for too long. The wife of a fellow policeman had hired him for the job, as her husband lay in a bed in the hospital, in a coma, due to the actions of his former partner. The Shadow located him fast, in a warehouse, where he was supposed to receive payment for his help from a criminal group. He wouldn’t be able to attack right there but he would follow the subject quietly and then kill him away from all the fuss.

 But that wasn’t possible. The moment the man arrived at the warehouse, he was ambushed by many criminals and finally killed by a shot on the head. The Shadow, seeing something was off, was about to leave silently but then he realized the place had been sealed and then a hoarse voice called at him. Knowing he had nowhere to go, the Shadow remained where he was and asked the voice who had hired them.

 Then, someone else appeared from behind two thugs. It was the woman that had hired him to kill the man that was now lying on the floor, his brain all over the place. The woman identified herself, and her husband, as the head of a criminal organization. She had hired the Shadow to capture him and not to kill anyone. He thought of his chances but knew he wouldn’t be able to defeat so many men, without at least one pulling out a gun and killing him. He asked then, what it was that she wanted.

 The woman, called Helena, told him that he had killed his son a year ago. He really didn’t need any more information than this because he knew who it had been. A young man who he had been hired to kill related to a rape. He proceeded to tell the woman about this but she refused to listen, telling him the man who had hired him was dead, as well as his lying daughter. The Shadow then asked her to kill him fast because he didn’t like to chat without reasons to do so. But the woman kept telling him that she wanted revenge, because her husband had been shot in pursuit of him, only a few weeks ago.

 Fed up with it, the Shadow decided to engage the men. He was too fast for most of them, although a couple of bullets burned his skin. He finally toppled down one of the men, took his gun and shot Helena straight to the head. With the same gun he downed another couple of guys and, as they regrouped, he broke a large window and escaped through there. He never knew how but he made it back to his home, sleeping in the barn instead of the house. If he had been followed, they look there first and he would notice.

 But no one came. He woke up to the licking of one of the cows and decided to cure himself in the bathroom. They were only scratches so it was rapidly done. He decided to lay low for a couple of weeks or more, in order not to attract attention and destroy both his lives. The radio news informed about the incident in the warehouse and attributed it to a dispute between criminal groups. They also informed of the detention of several policemen and others related to the criminal gang.

 The Shadow, who went by the name of Barney in this town, decided to turn of the radio and instead work on his animals. He spent all day grooming them, changing their spaces and giving them fresh new food. He even had time to fix one of the milking machines that had not been working correctly. He did that for the following months, never suiting up again in order to take on a mission. He had enough money now and didn’t need to kill anyone else to live decently until the day he died.

 Anyway, Barney had other dreams. He wanted his products to be sold all over the country and, honestly, he wanted a life of peace. The incident in the warehouse made him realize that he couldn’t afford putting his life at risk for reasons unknown anymore. It just wasn’t worth it. So he put it all behind and, for a good year, he was at peace with himself and the world. He hired new employees to help in his small factory and the business grew better and wider, buying more cows and buying new equipment. It was all going too good.

 One night, after closing the factory, Barney decided to go through the books and check his financial state. He did it every week because it distracted him. The people working for him were well paid and were all every honest and trustworthy but he just needed to be distracted by something. Too often, before going to bed, he recalled all of those times he had killed people. It was something awful to live with; even been convinced that most of them deserved their deaths. The others were just victims and he did know he was a murderer.

 Then, after he had finished doing the numbers and he recalled one more murder, he heard a knock downstairs, in the small store he had put up. Maybe it was the wind but the knock sound grew louder and it was obvious someone was there. He went downstairs but did not open, instead going through the back to surprise his nighttime guest. He grabbed a shovel to do so but was himself surprised when it was a young girl, who screamed like crazy when he almost slammed the shovel on her head.

 She started talking loud, like crazy, saying many words in a single second. Barney lowered the shovel and tried to calm her down, asking her why she was there. Asking her if there was some kind of problem. She shook her head negatively and said she had come to speak to him. Taking a look around, Barney invited her inside through the back door, to the kitchen. He poured some tea on two cups and told her to speak freely.

 The girl then told him her name was Florence. She had been looking for him for the last couple of years. As she put it, she was a clever girl and put it various clues together to get there, because she knew Barney was actually the Shadow. Barney spilled some of the tea on him as she said this. He automatically looked around, expecting people to come in from everywhere but that did not happened. Florence then confessed that her father had hired him two years ago, to kill her rapist.

 The Shadow was shocked but then he remembered the woman in the warehouse saying she had killed of that family. Florence explained that the men had tampered with the gas supply in her home, so to create an explosion. She was the only one in her family to notice the smell, coming down the house and then coming out to check the gas register. She was there when whole house exploded and she saw, before passing out, the men who had killed her family.

 The Shadow looked at her and understood instantly. He told her that he wasn’t accepting any requests or jobs in the meantime and that she should go and look for other family members to help her, if that was what she needed.

 But Florence was confused. She told Barney that she had no need for help as her family money was on an account that she emptied the day following the explosion. She had changed her name and, since the tragedy, she had been looking for him only to thank him and to ask a small favor, which had nothing to do with death or revenge.

 The Shadow didn’t even ask. He only stared at her and she started to cry in silence. Florence then said she had survived two attacks on her life, out of pure luck. And now, she wanted to learn how to defend herself. She wasn’t going to seek revenge but, if someone else did, she wanted to be prepared. And who better to prepare her that the legendary Shadow?


 He finished his tea and, without any word, he left for his room when he tried to sleep but couldn’t. In the morning, he realized Florence had not slept a minute, instead making breakfast. They didn’t say a word, not until she followed him to the backside of the barn, where he showed her a small space where he did a demonstration of his skills. There, the first relationship he had had in years finally began.

lunes, 1 de diciembre de 2014

No dreams, as usual

This time, it had been too much for him. It wasn't the first time a client got rough, many of them liked it that way and he had no other way than accepting it, as it generally meant a better pay.

But this time, it had been too much. Even just after he left, he already felt sick to his stomach, not being able to eat or drink anything. Despite having another appointment, Micky went straight to his house and lay in his bed. He fell asleep fast and had a horrible nightmare, filled with shadowy creatures and an endless labyrinth.

When he woke up, he thought had wet the bed as he felt the covers very wet. He felt ashamed and sat down to see the damage and then almost screamed but he contained it: it wasn't pee but blood. He was bleeding profusely and the blankets were all covered.

He decided to put the blankets on a plastic bag. He would decide to throw them or to clean them later. After that he decided to shower and clean the blood off his body. He felt awful. Micky's job was difficult and had always had that hard part on one side. He try to stay clear off that, being a nice person, trying to please every costumer and make them do as he wanted and not as they wanted.

But that obviously did not work always. Many wanted to take control, to feel they had the upper hand of the situation. And Micky complied because he didn't want more trouble.

In the shower, the water was tainted by blood for a long while. He finally decided, against every fiber in his body, to go to the hospital. He had always sought to avoid any help or going to places where they would ask too many questions.

But this time it appeared to be different. The blood stopped for a while and then came back. He put on two pieces of underwear and an tore apart an old scarf to put in there, as a diaper. He grabbed his bus card and went out.

He was there in under an hour. He didn't live to close from things, having to save all the money he had. He calculated every single expense and gain, even keeping his accounting in a book. It had to be done, with this kind of life.

In the hospital, he told the nurse in a very low register, what was happening. She told him to go over Emergencies and wait there to be greeted by a doctor. Luckily, not many people were waiting there although most appeared to have wounds related to street fights or domestic violence. After all, it was only 4 AM.

A young female doctor said his name out loud and Micky followed her to one of the many stretchers in a big room. It looked more crowded in there, some patients still there, sleeping or waiting for their meds to work.

The lady doctor was young. Micky thought she may have been younger than him. She greeted him with a smile and asked for his problem. He told her of the hemorrhage he had and she asked him to strip down. He complied and lied down on his stomach, as she threw away the piece of old scarf and took a look at the injuries.

 - What happened? - she asked. She sounded a bit alarmed.

Micky decided not to lie. That would only make her ask more questions that he didn't want to answer right now. He told her about his job and how that happened.

 - Well, you have to get stitches and... - she stopped. Apparently not being able to go on.
 - What?

The woman doubted for a moment but finally asked:

 - Was it consensual?

Micky did not answer right away but he finally said "Yes". She then said that was ok, but that the hospital rules obligated her to test him and see if he had any infections, diseases and internal injuries, for it to be deemed rape or not.

 - No, it wasn't that.
 - I have to. Sorry, it's procedure.

He was too exhausted. She gave him a shoot in order to get him to sleep while she did the stitches but then he felt something weird and heard a scream but far, as if it had happened far away. His sight was blurry. He closed his eyes but didn't open them for hours.

When he woke up, he was in proper hospital bedroom. He shared it with two more patients but it was an improvement on that stretcher. He heard things close and far, his head was spinning and finally the pain kicked it, hard.

All his genital region, everything between waist and thighs felt as if it was on fire and burning fast. The pain was unbearable and he started to scream. One of the other patients woke up and a nurse came running in, injecting something into a bag that was connected to him. He suddenly calm down, the pain going away. And he fell asleep again.

He woke up again and it was already dark outside. He could hear his neighbor snoring and the other bed was already empty. His doctor, the young woman, came in and stood there by him.

 - How do you feel?
 - Like shit.

 She laughed. Micky smiled, it was the best he could do.

 - You started bleeding when I injected you the first time. It was way worse that I initially thought so  we had to get you to the operation room. It was an hour or so. You were damaged, a lot. The rape kit  wasn't necessary.

When Micky heard that, he instantly sat on the bed but that proved to be a stupid idea. The pain kicked in again and he went back to his lying position.

 - What do you mean?
 - We found internal injuries, big ones. We had to give you some morphine, that's why you are now  drowsy, I presume.

He nodded. He did feel strange, as if floating or something.

 - It wasn't consensual, was it?

He looked at her eyes but had no urge to answer the question.

 - When can I leave?
 - Not yet. We have some exams we need.
 - I have no money.
 - Let's cross that bridge when we have to. Just rest.

And he did. He fell asleep fast and his sleep was dreamless, which suited him fine.

He was in the hospital for three more days until they finally decided he was good to go. But before he could leave, he had to meet the lady doctor again, for a small check up.

It was weird to have a woman looking at his ass but he didn't care now, after al of this. She asked him to pull up his pants and sit down. She said the results of the exams were good: they had not found infections or diseases. No AIDS, no gonorrhea. Nothing.

She then started speaking about paying the bill. Of course, Micky had no money to do that but then she told him she had being able to put him on a program payed by the city, which sought to help sex workers when being attacked. The city would pay the bill but she needed an arm and a leg.

 - I need you to sign a paper saying it was a rape. And you have to denounce this person to the police.  Otherwise, I cannot help you with the bill.

Micky shed a tear, and then two and so on. He did not know what to do. He just grabbed his bill and ran out of the doctor's office. He had some money saved, to buy a small apartment. He had been working for years and he had been careful with his finances. But this hospital thing was going to take his dreams, the few he had, away from him.

He did pay, however. He had to. He never heard from the lady doctor again and, when he was in good health, he started working again.

When getting home from the first job after his stay at the hospital, Micky remembered the conversation he had with the doctor. He felt her eyes on him again. He could hear all the questions as if she was there but this time his answer was "No".

He hugged his pillow and cried in silence until he fell asleep. Again, no dreams, as was usual.

jueves, 16 de octubre de 2014

Lady of the night

Brutal, bloody, senseless. Few words to describe the kind of horrors we have been living in Paris the past few days.

It all started with a corpse, floating on the Seine. They had tried to fill his guts with stones but the cut opened and the dead man floated back up.

As a member of the police, I'm responsable for the people of this town. It's not an easy task: these streets are filled with every single element of society: whores and thieves, society ladies and dandies, politicians and bakers. Every one walks these streets.

This first year of the new century has been disastrous for the force. I sometimes think 1900 is going to be the year that tears us apart, when this country will finally fall to the hands of brigands and opium smokers.

The city is less dangerous than in the past, that may be true, but what about this murders? Five men have been found floating on the Seine, in different parts of the city, always with a mark carved behind their necks: a spiral.

No one knew what that meant but, as policemen, we knew dead men would continue to come up. They all had some stones inside and we dismissed the idea the killer wanted them to sink. It was something else.

I visited Doctor Marteau, an old men that had studied in London and knew all about the procedures and tests to be done to a corpse, in order to find more about the death. Well, he did his job just fine. He found out every single one of these men had been sodomized with an object. The doctor was sure of it.

On the job, I had been to every part of town and knew about every aberration that lived in the city. Men sodomizing each other? No news to me. So there was more to it than just raping men and killing them. Someone was throwing them to the water, making them visible for us to get them. And that person, or persons, were branding these men like cattle.

After days of stalling, I went to have a glass of wine, a few glasses actually, to an old place I loved in the artists district, not far from the Moulin Rouge and the Sacré Coeur. All the girls knew me well and also knew I would be good to them if they didn't get into trouble. They greeted me on the street and I slightly bowed: they were women all the same.

I finally got to my joint and drank and drank and enjoyed myself for the first time in months. I liked talking to Michel, the bartender. A bald men that had seen enough of Paris and now only worked and lived in the same neighborhood, never traveling anywhere nor wandering around. But, as I did, he knew people.

He told me he had heard about the dead men and even about the state of the bodies, something we hadn't released to the press. I was rather surprised. He said a guy from the morgue came in the place a few times a week to brag about the horrible things he saw, drank a few ones and then left with a different chick every time.

I left the place, a bit dizzy but sure enough I could get home all right. It wasn't very far and I hated trains or cars. Nothing like the good air of Paris in the spring. Even late at night, it comforts you.

I walked down a steep road and among various buildings. I stopped to pee on a garden or something and moved on. Wine out of the system, I felt less drunk and very hungry. I had walked a lot and suddenly found myself near Madeleine. I knew a place around there so I could have something to eat.

But I never got to that. A man was screaming his lungs out, mad to the core or scared. I approached the screams, as I tried to dissipate any dizziness of my mind. Apparently, I was on duty.

The man was on the ground, leaning on a building. His eyes looked troubled, big and red. His leg was cut deep and bled profusely on the ground. The sight was enough to make me sick. And having had nothing to eat, it was worse.

I calmed down the man, telling him to stop shouting and to talk to me. I took out my ID and presented myself as a policemen. He ceased with the screaming but still trembled uncontrollably, as if he had seen a monster.

I looked all over my coat and finally pulled out my whistle. I carried it for emergencies and this was one for sure. I used it many times and minutes later two fellow officers helped me get the sick man to an ambulance.

The next day, I tried to visit him but couldn't. He had been put on strong medication, in order to cure his leg and to help him deal with the pain. It wasn't the appropriate time to question him.

I came back after two days. I wasn't feeling very good: another body had been found on the night I found my screaming lunatic. I visited him because I needed to know he was fine, at the moment, I never imagined he would be a pivotal part of everything.

A nurse pulled a chair close for me and I sat beside his bed. To be honest, this young man was handsome, which led me to believe he came of a good family. His clothes were expensive, for what the talkative nurse told me, and he had money on himself so he wasn't mugged.

He turned to me and greeted me kindly, as if I was a old friend. He told me he remembered me from that night and thanked me for my help. I told him that, as a policemen, that was my duty. I proceeded to ask what had happened and then his kind smile disappeared. And he began telling me.

He had escaped his parents house. He was the son of a duchess and a politician that lived in Lyon. He had come with a friend to Paris and started enjoying the night of the city. He went to parties with artists and whores and enjoyed both flesh and drinking. He smoked opium and had sexual relations with everyone he met.

Then, he said, he met a woman when coming out of one of many parties. She was beautiful and willingly went with her to her home. But there was nothing there, no furniture, no clothes, nothing. Only empty space. She said she liked to bring boys there and then proceed to tie him to a post. Then pulled out a knife and cut herself and him, on the leg.

She started talking about the pleasure of carving human flesh, of feeling the guilt of men when she did so and how weak they all were and women had to deal with their stupid attitudes and ideas. She laughed at moments and said it was precious to see them cry in front of her, as he was doing.

Then, according to the young men, she got near but he managed to kick her and release himself. As he was, he fled the building, almost getting caught by the woman. She didn't follow him but he ran fast and far and finally caved to his leg.

I stood there, hearing his words. While he was talking about being forced to drink and smoke by her, I was thinking I was closer to my murderer than ever before. A lady of the night, nonetheless.

domingo, 21 de septiembre de 2014

Drive

Ariana took the lead tube from the floor. The man slowly stood up from the ground and looked at her, as if he wanted to kill her.

But she was beyond that. The girl tightened her hand around the tube and, before he could do anything, hit the man on the head once and again and again.

When she stopped, he was dead, his blood forming a small pond that grew larger by the minute. She ran from the place, not letting the tube go.

Half an hour later, she got to her house. She finally let go of the bloody tube that hit the floor hard. She slowly took her coat off, trembling a bit, remembering how he looked after she had killed him.

No, she didn't felt pity or remorse. She just couldn't. Ariana had promised herself never to be a victim again and she had taken steps for that not to happen. She went to a martial arts school and began doing yoga, although she failed miserably at the latter.

Fighting, the inexplicable drive she felt when hitting another body, was to her like a drug. A brand new one she discovered to be very addictive.

So that night, when she killed a man that had attempted to rape her, she felt powerful and strong, filled with adrenaline and ready to take the world by her rules and not by the ones society imposed. She was fed up by the feeling of fear and hopelessness. No, she decided to take action.

Many people, mainly man, were afraid of strong women. Days after the killing, she went out with a former lover called Richard, by her request. He had stated she was different somehow but that he liked it. She just smiled, not really understanding what he had meant.

News of the murder filled the papers soon but the man was a reported rapist and many of his victims were thankful for his demise. Some actually said they were happy as that was what he deserved. Others just wanted time to heal, both physically and mentally.

But Ariana had already healed, or at least that was what she said to herself. Before the first attack, the one that almost made her insane, she was just a fearful girls just sailing through life, not really counting on anything. The attack just made her even more shy, more scared and she even lost the will to live.

Now, however, she had taken the bull by the horns. Richard, now her boyfriend, was specially surprised by how much she had changed over the years. He knew hair as the bookish, rather dull girl in high school. To be honest, he never paid attention to her back then.

But now it was impossible not look at her: she had blossomed into this sexy and daring woman. Sex was wonderful and even better was sharing long talks with her. Ariana had always loved reading, so she had decided to open a small bookstore. She did it all by herself and just a year after she was a favorite in the neighborhood.

Richard moved in with her and they shared even more than before: travels, memories, experiences and more. One day she finally told him about her rape. Richard was an even better man that she taught. She kissed and hugged her and promised to be there forever.

Of course, sometimes she still remembered everything: the rape, the aftermath and the killing of that man, in a dark alley. That was her biggest secret and she never told anyone. Ariana never felt guilty for what she had done but she knew it was a sin with which she would have to live forever.

And she did. She lived a full life, doing what she loved, living life by her rules. The man that loved her shared her feelings for the beauty of life and the horrible events of her life never tainted the powerful drive to keep on going.