Bought by the Devil

The Injustice

I was in my third year at university, juggling the demands of my studies while simultaneously working various part-time jobs, driven by the necessity of independence. I had learned, early on, that I could rely on no one but myself. Yet, despite this autonomy, I could not bring myself to leave the only home I had, nor the father who remained my only family, however fractured that bond had become. The truth was, I had nowhere else to go, and a deep, persistent fear of him kept me tethered to that basement apartment. Each day, I returned home with whatever meager earnings I could scrape together, the few bills in my pockets serving as a fragile barrier against his volatile and abusive behavior.

My reality was one of constant vigilance. In every job I held, I was keenly aware of the eyes that followed me—eyes that saw not a person, but an object of desire. I became accustomed to the crude advances of employers who, despite their position, saw fit to harass and proposition me. Their predatory behavior was relentless, and each time I was forced to flee a position out of sheer discomfort, I would try to push the shame down, only to be faced with more of the same in the next job. But the worst of it began that fateful day at the university, in the office of one of my professors—a man in his forties who had, over time, learned of my circumstances and, instead of offering sympathy or guidance, saw an opportunity for something far darker.

"Sophie, could you please come to my office? I’d like to discuss your exam for a moment."

The professor’s voice rang out as the bell signaled the end of class, and while the other students filed out, he called me aside. Hesitant but compliant, I followed him down the corridor to his office, only to feel an unsettling shift when, after I stepped inside, he closed the door behind me, locking it with a definitive click. A knot of unease tightened in my stomach.

"Is there something wrong with my exam answers?" I asked, my voice slightly trembling, though I tried to mask my apprehension.

"No, no, Sophie," he replied, his tone far too smooth. "That’s not why I called you here."

He took a step closer, his movements predatory, his hand settling too comfortably on my shoulder. I recoiled instinctively, but he seemed to take no notice.

"I’ve noticed, Sophie," he said, his voice lowering, "you’ve been looking... tired. Stressed. I hear things aren’t going well at home."

A shiver ran through me as his fingers grazed my cheek, too soft, too intimate. I instinctively stepped back, my back hitting the desk, and I found myself trapped, with nowhere to go.

"You don’t need to be shy," he continued, his words dripping with insincerity. "I can help you. You don’t have to carry this burden alone."

His words hung heavy in the air, but they felt wrong—so wrong. There was an unspoken suggestion in his tone that made my skin crawl. I took another step back, my heart pounding in my chest.

"Mr. John," I whispered, my voice shaking, "Please… I need to leave now. I—I’m not comfortable with this."

I tried to push him away, using all my strength, but he pressed forward, trapping me further. His grip tightened as he pulled me into his arms, sliding his fingers under my shirt touching my skin trying to touch my breast and I felt an overwhelming surge of panic. I struggled against him, my breaths coming in sharp, ragged gasps.

"Don’t be difficult, Sophie," he murmured, his words now turning to something far darker. "I’ll make it worth your while. Just do as I ask, and everything will be better. I can make sure your grades reflect it."

The weight of his words pressed against me like a heavy fog. My mind screamed for me to escape, to run, but I was frozen, fighting against the wave of terror that engulfed me.

"Please," I begged, my voice barely audible. "This isn’t right. You have a family... How can you do this?"

But my protests only seemed to fuel his resolve, and as he tried to push further, I summoned every ounce of strength I had left. In a desperate bid, I bit him, hoping the pain would force him to let go. He howled in anger, a sound so vile it sent me scrambling away from him, my heart pounding, clothes in disarray.

Tears welled in my eyes, but I didn’t look back. I fled the room, running down the hallway with my heart racing, as if the very act of leaving could somehow erase the shame I felt. I locked myself in the nearest restroom, my body trembling, tears streaming down my face. It wasn’t just the assault on my body, but the complete violation of my trust, my dignity. The injustice of it all overwhelmed me, and I could not understand how such cruelty could exist in the world.