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Greetings, everyone
This is my fifth attempt at #WeekendFreewrite organized by @mariannewest. Prompts in bold italics. I stuck to the five minutes per prompt for the first two, but the last one took me a while to finish. I tell you why at the end.

Las Wish

Her eyes were closing, her chin fell towards her chest when the blaring of a horn jolted her.
They were back. The pain in her face and legs came back too. The ropes that kept her hands tied behind her back to the chair felt like centipedes crawling around her wrist, sending chills up her arms. The man who was guarding her got up from the wooden stool and headed to the door.

She heard their steps approaching and a sour taste climbed all the way from the pit of her stomach to her bleeding mouth. She had had enough. She would make them kill her if need be. What was the point of being alive if it meant being used as a sex doll? She wondered how she would go back to a normal life if a miracle got her out of her misery.

[end of five minutes]

A pillowcase covered his head and she thought that it would do the job.
That’s the last she remembered from that fatidic night. She had woken up naked on a stranger’s bed. She could tell he was deep asleep, drunk, drugged.

She touched her genitals and confirmed that she had been raped. Shame, pain, and anger swirled in her mind. Her first impulse was to throw things around, but then she thought that would wake the man up. She could hear her parents pointing I-told-you-so fingers. She could not believe her “friends” had set her up like that. She regretted all her obsession with popularity and being liked by boys. Who knew what they he had done. Was he alone? Did he or someone else make a video? Would it be in all social media by now? Would her parents have seen it already?

That’s when she thought about killing the man. Who knew what or who was waiting outside that room’s door? If there were more men outside and she was not going to escape, she wanted to have the satisfaction of having avenged her humiliation.

She took a pillow, pulled it out of its case, and grabbed the man’s belt from his pants, which were sprawled on the floor next to the bed. With a quick move she wrapped the man’s head inside the pillow case, but when she was going to tighten the belt around his neck everything went black.

[end of five minutes]

they stopped making plastic bags
She heard one of the men comment casually. Is that supposed to save the fucking planet? The other one asked as they entered the room. One of them was holding two paper bags with some groceries and bottles.

[end of five minutes]

Did you bring the rum I asked you for? The guard asked. Sure thing, said one of the other two. They emptied the bags on the table. The phone of one of the men rang. Yes, she’s awake, he said on the phone. All right, then. That will cost you double.

What did he say? The guard asked. We have to clean the mess, the other responded while he opened a bag of chips.

Please, guys, do not hurt me, I’ll collaborate. I won’t scream; I won’t say anything. Just let me go, please. I’ll say I had an accident. I promise I won’t say anything. They looked at each other. Make it quick, the one munching chips said. They’re bringing another one.

Be careful what you wish for, the girl thought she heard a voice whispered. She closed her eyes and imagined her parents were there. She asked for their blessings and said good bye.

This story took me a while to fish. Even though I was tempted to give it a happy ending, the thought of thousands of unsolved female homicides around the world kept haunting me as I struggle to type every word of the last prompt.

I remember reading Chilean author Roberto Bolaño’s massive novel, 2666 (published in 2004), one of the most gripping accounts of Mexico’s shameful case study. There are women who have been brutally murdered and whose bodies have not even been found and probably will never be. I’m sure all of those women believed in god, prayed and begged for their lives and that put me in the position of picturing what the last moments of a person who knows she will be killed would be like.

I wish these kinds of things did not happen, but they keep happening; I wish the ones responsible for such hideous crimes were punished accordingly, but many die (peacefully or not) without having their names associated with such crimes. I do not find consolation in the idea of divine justice.

Thanks for your visit

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