I remember the sight before me as I entered our apartment the next morning. She sat at the far corner of the room, her body devoid of any clothing, trembling with her knees clutched to her chest. Her clothes which looked like it was forcefully removed were splattered on the floor, the bed winkled, with blood stain on it.
Then it clicked, Lara has been raped, and it was my fault.
If only I had come home, then we would have been out partying, she wouldn't have to face that tragedy.
Ever since then, she developed haphephobia, the fear of touch. She who always wanted to cuddle now flinch when I touch her.
...To be continued.
YOU ARE READING
OMOLARA
Short Story....And that's the saddest thing about betrayal, it comes from your friends. Or at least you thought they were.
