Today is the happiest day in my life. I am independent now, and going to get married to the perfect guy. Even though I never expected it, I finally had the perfect fairy tale ending.

I never thought I would be laughing again. Sometimes I have flashes from my past, but they don’t send fear through my body anymore.

To tell a short version of my story, I was six; he touched me inappropriately, and started telling things I didn’t understand. I never felt comfortable around him. I didn't tell anyone for a while, and when I finally did, half didn't believe me and half didn't want to. My mother made me stop going to school for a few days, then she didn't allow me to play outside. That incident might not mean much to the people around me, or maybe just a little fun to my abuser, but my eyes always filled with dread every time I heard someone behind me. I always got an irresistible urge to hit anyone who happened to touch me unexpectedly.

Meanwhile, my father was transferred and I was enrolled in a new school. I was so happy, but after a few years I met the demon who started molesting me. I didn't tell anyone at home, because I knew the price my mother would make me pay, but this time I wasn't alone either. I had my friends to help me. Together we found out what we could about him and informed the local news. They alerted the police, and came to school with the child helpline. He lost his job. However, instead of appreciating us for our bravery, we were scolded for making him lose his job. That day I understood that community was more important than an individual to the people around me.

From then on, people would whisper behind my back and I would get strange stares. Many people avoided me because I was labeled as trouble. I was expelled from school. My mother started scolding me, said I was defamed in society, and not going to get married. They started homeschooling me. Then one summer day, while I was going to groceries, the demon abducted me in a van.

This was my nightmare. When I went back home, I didn’t tell anybody, and had no clue how to tell them. My mother applied an ointment to a bruise on my hand. I thought she would still treat me the same way if I told her what had happened. Then he came in the evening, asking my hand for marriage, and told my parents the truth. They cried and agreed to not to get my siblings future disturbed. [I’m really not certain what you’re trying to say here. They agreed not to tell your siblings?]

I wondered why I couldn't just let myself die. Then they said my life had already ended, and warned me what everybody would say about my character if I died. In the name of “justice”, they legally gave him permission to rape me every day. The community heads told me, “You are of age, and you would respond to it”. All I wanted to ask was, “Would these big people react the same way when things happen to their wives and daughters?”

Innocently and reluctantly, I entered hell. I was not allowed to go out. I couldn't I ask for money or talk to anyone. I was an object to dump all his emotional baggage on with ruthless words and actions. I always wanted to ask him, "Why? Why me?" Over time, I thought that being dead would be my best option. While I was contemplating suicide, during one long painful night, the demon whispered in my ears that he wished I was dead. I was angry and frightened.

Then it struck me, why should I die? Why should I stay paralyzed and live with fear and shame? What sin did I commit? Unable to bear the torture any longer, I ran away to my parents. Society blamed me again like I did something unforgivable, but I wasn’t silent, and they heard my voice this time. The way they were expecting me to live was the life I had to live and I didn’t need their pity. I wanted them to stop humiliating me. I am not a sin. I wanted justice and my justice was his punishment. They warned me not to take it to the court because they might turn down my case against him from lack of proper evidence. Even with evidence, they said it would take a lot of time in court to get justice, and I would be hopeless after one stage since there is no point in getting judgment after I die or get old. There would be no escape from memories which haunt me either, because I had to remember everything, every small detail to testify against him until final judgment. Then my father also convinced me that he could not leave his job to go to the court every time, and it will jeopardize my family.

They didn’t understand. That demon was still out there and knew where I live. I didn’t want to live in constant fear. They silenced me with their words, but they could not put out the fire in my heart. Why should I have to hide? Why does it have to affect me for the rest of my life? Why do I have to feel guilty and ashamed? He should have to be the one who to feel all those emotions, not me. I cried, silently screaming inside.

Movies, campaigns, laws, and all sorts of awareness programs came along, but nothing has changed over time. Amidst those fears and questions was born my desire to do something meaningful with my life. I started dreaming again for a new life. I couldn’t live like that anymore because I am done being weak. I am done praying to be set free. I didn’t want to be left out with pain and suffering.

I started studying. After a little while, community heads and my parents wanted me to get married again. I wasn’t willing or ready. My mother said, “You have no idea what society will think if you reject this proposal. How will you survive? It is hard for somebody to marry you. It’s god’s grace that he offered his hand.” They always thought about society and their comments. If these loud mouth people cannot ignore me, I can ignore them. They wanted me to marry any person who offers me his hand. They didn’t understand that, when something happens again, I didn’t want to go back to my parents, again. What if there comes a day where I couldn’t go to anybody? I am not a sin, but a fellow human, and I have equal rights to live like them. I didn’t want to end up a mess. I didn’t want my scars to take charge of my life and mask my identity. I didn’t want to talk with fear, but confidence. I wanted to live with freedom, even at the cost of my death. I had cried enough. Humiliation doesn’t hurt me anymore. Rape and domestic violence are not my identity. I want to survive with pride and respect, and education was the only way.

I told them that I applied to one institute, and they were offering me a scholarship. I didn’t want to miss the chance. “You would be alone” my father shouted. I’m used to being alone. My mother worried about my safety in a new place. That made me laugh, “I grew up in a safe environment always covering from head to toe and never stepped out of house without their permission. What for? What did that leave me? What else left to be afraid of? I have nothing to lose. I was already a living corpse. Death doesn’t scare me, but not standing up for myself would definitely have intensified my pain. I left home to let happiness overtake my pain.

After a year at college, strange whispers and stares started again. I couldn’t understand what it was. Slowly through my roommate I got the news that there was a sex video of me out there. My demon had uploaded it. I froze and I couldn't believe that it was really happening. My mind shut off completely. Some voice inside me said to be strong, and fight him off.

I filed a complaint against him, and they did what they could. I was also enrolled in therapy sessions to help me come to terms over it. It was a struggle every day.