Melissa: She has a story in her eyes.
"You. Are. Mine." He said, emphasising each word so that they carve in my brain.
"No. Stop it." A tear stained my cheeks.
His teeth grazed my neck, leaving angry marks. A soft whimper escaped my mouth.
"I won'...
Oops! This image does not follow our content guidelines. To continue publishing, please remove it or upload a different image.
It wasn't one of my dreams to become a social worker. I never thought I would succeed in this career choice, never thought I will make enough money out of it.
Money is the most important asset to live. To survive, you need money. To an average person, career choice is something that will provide you with a satisfied life.
My life is far from satisfying.
But, there is always something good in the bad. My career choice doesn't give me enough money but it gives me a slight bit of happiness by helping others.
After graduating college with MSW (Masters of Social Work), I got a placement in the renowned NGO working for women and girl child, Rural Women and Girl Child Rescue.
This association started in 1920 in the USA, with its first project being to abolish wife beating. The association was very much successful in doing so. It's current project was demolishing the practice of female genital mutilation.
Being the vice president of the association, I had to be present for all the meetings and conferences, the seminars with the victims, and sometimes go on field work as well. It kept me busy when my husband wasn't in the country.
Also, I was forced into social work when I had to choose my career. I always wanted to cook and become a chef and maybe open a restaurant in future. But, my dream was trash, as they said. Social service would bring a good name to the family of my husband's and mine. It would be a white mark on the business world and whatnot.
The air conditioning was not helping at all. The humid weather made my clothes sticky. RIP to these expensive clothes. I sighed.
The seminar started an hour ago. I was already feeling uncomfortable sitting on the podium with those extra lights on top of my head. I had nothing to do but listen.
I don't exactly love my work but I don't hate it either. Rebecca Miller, the spokesperson of the association continued with her speech.
"Our main aim is to bring out the small places into light which practice the female genital mutilations as a custom. As we all know, Africa has been under strict speculation to the said matter by the United Nation Organisation. " Rebecca paused and flipped some pages in her folder. She took a deep breath and spoke confidently once again. "We have with us Asman Johari from India, Nafeesa Rahman Johannes from the USA, and Mehek Khan from Saudi Arabia. These women are the voice against FGM."
Now comes the important part, taking notes and interacting with the victims. So I start, "First of all, hats off to you ladies for being the voice of the innocent..." a practiced line and a fake smile. "...so would you like sharing with us your age and profession? Please."
"I am 25 and a journalist in the Times of India." Asman Johari said with a small smile, she was a short pretty young lady, she wore a dark green shirt with white trousers. Her hair was matt black and eyes brown.
