With the look on the unsuspecting Khalifa’s face, I’m sure he would have insisted we took a bath together if the bathroom had been mine only.
I wasted as much time as I wanted, crying while i scrubbed profusely at the dried blood and semen on my thighs. Not exactly the way I imagined the morning after my first time would be.
What happened to the dreams of me laying in the tub of hot rose water on the chest of my husband in some five star private suite in some hotel in Dubai. Just one word I should have said, one word and this irreparable damage wouldn’t have happened. But no, I wanted to be the adult he had called me. Now I’m a whore, a bloody whore!
I scrubbed and scrubbed my inner thighs with a mad frenzy till it hurt so badly but I couldn’t touch that place between my left that needed the most washing. That dirty place between my legs the unholy act had taken place. I couldn’t stop the tears either, there was just so much pain and guilt.
When I was certain I must have spent almost an hour in the bathroom, I stepped out red eyed. By the time I got to the room, Khalifa had left. But he left a note on the bed saying ‘ Call me when you’re out. I had an emergency.’ I crunched the note into a ball and threw it into the little trash bin with anger.
No Khalifa didn’t ruin me, I ruined myself.