Freedom

As I stare at my reflection in the mirror,
Goosebumps make my pale body shiver.
As I wash my face from the cold and yellowish tap water,
My nose burns from the pungent ammoniac stench in the dilapidated bathroom.
As I sense my client's eyes ogling on my naked back,
I wish to die again and again.
I splash more water on my face to remove the cheap mascara stains and the black patches under my eyes,
The mascara stains vanish but the black patches refuse to vanish.
As I start picking up my clothes ignoring the 'compliments',
I wonder will I be a free soul ever?
I remember the day very well when my sad plight began,
I was only twelve when my father called me to his room and introduced me to my future husband.
I wanted to hide behind my mother's saree the moment I saw his evil eyes piercing through my clothes,
But tears flooded my eyes when I remembered my father had beaten her to her death two weeks ago.
As usual he had started beating my mother after coming home drunk,
But this time he stopped only after my mother stopped breathing.
The next morning he appeared to be shocked when he saw my mother's lifeless body hanging from the ceiling.
The neighbors consoled us but no one seemed to notice the 'black patches, all over her body.
My father was now smiling as he took a fat bundle of notes from my 'husband's' hands.
After a couple of weeks as I was lying asleep on an old bed in my new home,
I woke up startled as I felt someone grabbing me,
Before I could shout, my husband put his hands on my mouth and destroyed me completely for his own pleasure .
I prayed to god to make him stop,
But god seemed to be non-existent as he continued to destroy me every day for the next six months.
After six months he said,
If you want to stay with me,you have to start working and make use of your body.
I rejoiced at the thought of freedom, but alas it wasn't a choice that I had.
The next day he went to a brothel and registered by name among the many 'items' the brothel offered.
My life became a living hell,
I wished for death everyday but that too seemed inevitable as he kept me chained in shackles whenever I wasn't 'working'.
As I step outside my client's room,
I seem him outside flirting with another lady.
He comes near me and says,"bitch you're …",
He is unable to finish his sentence as he falls down on the floor with blood spluttering out of his chest.
I shoot him four more times with the revolver I had stolen from my client's pants.
As I stare at his lifeless body,
I realize my freedom is one more step away.
I put the gun in my mouth and pull the trigger.
As my soul leaves my body I feel contempt for I am free at last.
Shayon