[This story contains content that might be triggering for some audiences so please read at your own risk or continue to the next short story]
You never think it will happen to you. You see them as demonic tales, isolated attacks but it's not like that; it happens every day, at every hour and everywhere.
5 HOURS EARLIER
"Malena! Let's go!" Nikolai, my Russian roomie, shouted from the door of our flat in the heart of Paris just a few minutes away from the Eiffel Tower.
"I told you I'm coming!" I yelled back on my way to the door. "HAPPY?!" I screamed on his face with a grin.
"Ne krichi na menya!" he said not to yell at him and he yelled it in Russian.
We've been flatmates for about two years now; we are best friends and whenever is needed a little bit more but it's been proven that it won't get out of hand.
My Parisian residence is a result of my desire to study fashion at the Institut Français de la mode and Nikolai is studying at Le Cordon Bleu to become a chef; these are the best schools in their respective field.
Our life in the French capital has always been tranquil, the majority of the days are like the previous one although we make sure to go out for dinner almost every night to escape the walls that imprison our stress and concerns.
Today is Saturday so we are headed to Showcase which is a club under the Pont Alexandre III, possibly the only club in the world under a bridge with the most wonderful views of the Seine while you drink out of a champagne bottle that costs over 500 euros sponsored by my dear Nikolai who can more than afford it without a twitch of his eye; he has changed his Audi R8 three times in the last six months in view of the fact that none of the colours convince him.
When we arrived at the club, Nikolai wrapped his right arm around my waist to protect me since he thinks my skirt is too short and says someone could try to take advantage of me only because I'm showing too much which is the furthest thing from fair; men take their shirts off all the time at the club, even their pants and NO ONE says something.
Nikolai never left my side; in the dance floor whilst dancing he was there although he hates dancing; when I drank with other people he would sniffle my drink first and then gave it to me if he was sure there wasn't drug in them; when I went to the bathroom he would wait outside; if I talked to other men or women he would interrogate them in a 007 manner. Everything in French. He is without a doubt overprotective and I couldn't feel more grateful.
At around 2 am I let him know I wanted to go home since mixing tequila and vodka (bad decisions) made me feel sick; the sickfuck mocked me before giving me the keys to the car so I could hop in whilst he pays the bill.
On my way to the parking spot, maybe a block away, I spotted a group of men leaving a pub but I felt safe since behind me there was a mixed group who were pretty much sober. Once I crossed the street, my eyes darted in every direction making sure there wasn't anyone around. Just as I was about to wrap my hand around the door handle someone grabbed me from behind and covered my mouth with their hand which I quickly bit as hard as I could at the same time as my legs kicked the air trying to free myself.
The person carried me into a narrow and lonely alley, that's when my eyes noticed the other six men who doubled my size. Two of them kept my arms in a crucifix position, another one covered my mouth with his beer-reeking hand and lastly the one who pulled down his pants before gripping my thighs. I tried to move as much as possible hoping they would get tired and leave or maybe loosen their grip but nothing worked.
Tears hurried down my eyes like snow down a mountain during an avalanche, I felt my heart beat's in my head and knew that tomorrow wouldn't be the same if I had the luck to be alive.
Luck or punishment?
As the first man raped me the others laughed and even took pictures which in a sort of twisted way relieved me because if in 10 minutes Nikolai finds my lifeless body, there might be evidence with the face of my attackers.
My insides were bleeding and burning as if they had injected gasoline into my bloodstream followed by fire. The violent grip of the monster standing between my legs will leave bruises and most likely scratches. His smell will haunt me the rest of my life if I live to keep this secret and live in shame and fear. The dark blue eyes of a demon won't ever let me sleep soundly and will probably be the last thing I see.
After a deathless minute, the first attacker took a step back and the one covering my mouth took his place "NIKOLA–" before I could finish screaming one of them punched me which was followed by darkness.
In the black lagoon that felt like some sort of limbo, there was a single object: a mirror. I stood in front of it and observed the bruises that gradually appeared on my neck, clavicles, around my wrists and jaw. A dark substance scurred down my inner thighs. An abrupt wave of pain conquered my abdomen; I tried to scream but my mouth was sealed. My fingers tried to separate my lips but then I realized my superior jaw was tied to my inferior jaw by some sort of braided wire.
I fell to my knees with tears flooding my eyes as words in red appeared on the mirror:
Slut.
Whore.
That's what you get for wearing a short skirt.
It was your fault.
You provoked them.
Dead.
You deserve it.
I squeezed my eyes shut until they hurt and when they fluttered open my surroundings were no longer the black lagoon. I tried to turn my head to my right but there was something stiff keeping my head in place "Mhh," a whimper left my mouth thanks to the wave of pain taking over my body.
"Malena," Nikolai's voice then his hand before his face was above mine "Ty budesh' v poryadke," he said I'm going to be all right.
I tried to speak to tell him what happened but like in the black lagoon, my jaws were wired.
It wasn't a dream.
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