No- it’s not in his dictionary

No.

What is a no?

A no is a sign of disapproval.

It hasn’t got any foreshadowing or metaphorical meaning.

It’s just a one straight up no.

That’s what she told too.

That’s what he heard, too.

But that no remained insignificant.

In the narrow alleys of Mumbai, on the usual streets to take her home, we see a young teenage girl unexposed to the dark life of reality, casually walking without a single care in the world. Life was good life was fun. It was mid afternoon, probably around half past 3. She took time to praise nature’s gifts as she took her steps. She took time for herself. It was one lonely street. The usual path she walked on.

But something kept her. Something kept reminding her to not take the path any longer. A voice in her kept telling her to abort from her place. She didn’t understand why. Maybe it was her instincts or subconscious mind from what her ma warned her about women safety in the morning. Maybe it was the news of a girl being assaulted that her ma shared at breakfast. She brushed it off.

That feeling was annoyingly creeping up at her again and again. She just wanted to go home. She wanted to be at peace. That’s when she felt a pair of strong arms grasping her hand.

She tried to bust. But the hold was too strong for her. He pulled her young body to be laid against his chest. And his smile proved how much he was longing it. He had forgotten to bring his cloth and used his hand to muffle her screams. Her screams now reduced to pitiful moans. No one was around. The way she wriggled in his grasp was his little playtime.

“I see you everyday. Look how beautiful you are!” He smugly replied.

His voice made her feel unsafe. The adrenaline rush was high. She tried her best but he just didn’t budge. It was like, he was experienced at it and had been doing it

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for a very long time.

“Shh, hush, baby girl,” he whispered with a filthy look of desire on his face.

She fought hard. It wasn’t like the hand- wrestling match she played with the boys in her school. This was different. Different and ugly. Her little tricks of biting or scratching was something he was used to. He laughed. He was laughing at her oh so brave character.

“I like brave girls.” He laughed again “They think they can always win.” 

She began to get tired of the attempts to seek help. Her vision blurred. She needed water. But this was the time for the hunter to taste his prey. He slid his arm at her hip, unbuttoning her uniform. He could feel the quaint young, tender flesh of the 16 year old against his rough grip. His smile widened. He was now caressing her breasts. He was enjoying every moment of it. The way she became silent and not showing any oppression was his plus point. He laid himself against the wall for support. She obeyed his body language in her unconscious state. She wanted to get out of it but it was in vain. He kissed her neck. The touch of his lips against her skin made her disgusted. He hugged her svelte, voluptuous frame. She tried to back away but all her strength was gone. She felt his colossal thumb at her cheek, wiping her silent tears begging for freedom.

“Sh, it will all be over soon, trust me,” he whispered, a vulgar look in his eyes.

When he was finally done, he smiled again. He kissed her luscious lips one last time. And in her pocket, he left a thank you card. With a filthy satisfaction, he left the scene, laying the girl down, half naked. He had devoured her.

“We will meet again.”

And she woke up, no longer the innocent teenager. No longer virgin. She was his. All she had left was his leftovers. A meal for some other time.