She stood under the shower in her synthetic saree. The water soaked through her open hairs and dribbled all through her body. She shivered but stood still. It was not just water that covered the bathroom floor. There were tears assimilated in the water. Shock, disgust, freedom and filthiness surrounded her. A gush of blood dripping from her hand, followed the path of water, making whole of the bathroom appear red.

That night was darker than ever before. Wind flowed with more rage that night. Time became very heavy to pass. Sonali was still traumatized. She could never imagine this happening. She could not believe that she could do this. All she did was cry. she herself could not understand the correct reason behind her sobs. Was it guilt or freedom? But somewhere she knew that what happened was wrong. Absolutely wrong. Her cries grew louder and stronger. She felt dirty. She rubbed herself again and again. All she could manage to speak between her cries was β€œAbhishek I killed you.” She dragged herself out of the bathroom and checked for the last hope. She screamed the same thing again and fell unconscious on the floor besides the non respiring body of her husband.

To be continued…


15 Replies to “THE UNPAID PROSTITUTE. #01”

  1. These words and your existence make me write. I literally hope that this little innovation finds success. And this innovation came into form because of you…. So I am thankful to you😘😘😘😘 I will try to make you proud… More proud… 😁😁😁😁😁😁

    Liked by 1 person

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