He protested, but they dragged him off me and pulled him along with them, leaving me alone in the dark alley completely dry of both tears and sweat.But not of blood and the semen that continued to pour from between my legs like they had a kind of eternal storage in there.
I laid there on the ground, not weeping. I had stopped weeping since the fourth man and even stopped sweating at the turn of the boy. It was as if my body had become totally devoid of emotions.
I didn’t know how long I spent there on the ground but by the time I finally managed to claw myself to where my dress was and managed to sit up, the men were already long gone and the night was dead silent again.
All around where I sat on the floor like the badly mutilated piece of trash that I had become, blood and semen was splattered on the floor. Maybe someone would have seen it the next day and pointed out what a terribly unusual thing it was, but once again I remind you, that i t had taken place in a drak corner, and it was the perfect gang rape. No one would look for them, their victim was not dead, and not a living soul would know if the victim doesn’t tell.
All around me, evidence of my rape was splattered on the floor and even in my state of bad shock, I knew what that meant. But……. I crawled to where my torn pant was, starring at me like somehow, it was I who betrayed it and I picked it up.
I tried to stand up but I couldn’t. I tried again and I fell down thrice before finally being able to do it by leaning on a wall.
I took one step. Then the next, which felt like the step of death. And then the next. And then the next. Till I got home.