The Decision Drawer

She stood aghast, her heart throbbing rythimically in sync with the saliva down her throat. At a glance, you could hardly tell whether they were traces of tears or sweat that ran down her cheeks. At second glance, her mucal discomforts in her breathing gave away her emotional state.

She hugged herself tightly, a feeling of loneliness engulfing her which was one she knew too all well. She had been kicked to the curb years ago and life had a knack for reminding her that she was just a lab-rat on earth.

She was at her front porch, her legs wide open and her mind wondering off to no particular place until she settled on one...the shower. She imagined herself scrubbing off all the iniquities she had had to endure. She scrubbed hard, and soon the friction had blood oozing out of her smooth skin. She enjoyed the self-inflicted pain and in the peak of her self-gratification, she came back to her senses. She was not in the shower, she was still dirty, ashamed and vile.

Never in her life had she contemplated suicide, but hey! There is a first time for everything. Once a chin-up, self-driven and successful lady, this day made her vulnerable and disgusting. This time picking up the pieces was proving to be harder than she had ever imagined possible, being a lady of endless possibilities. She felt like she had finally drawn the shortest straw.

Slowly but steadily, she let out soft wails to the memories of the hard thrusts from the remorseless monster. She cursed the day she had laughed off the self-defence classes...if only! She had fought, more so with words of supplication which were to no avail. He was so strong that he took off her clothes without breaking a sweat. He then proceeded to lick her neck like a piece of meat. She blocked out the rest of the graphic memories......especially the ones she dared not admit. At one point, 'God-forbid' she liked it and she shouldn't have despite it being a purely physical reaction.

The piercing cold moved her into her humble abode where her clothes lay, along with her dignity. She threw herself to the floor and wailed some more until her voice was hoarse. Suddenly, she was done....she got up, wiped one cheek with the back of her palm and headed to her bedroom. She was done.

She looked like a lady with resolve, and her face beamed with satisfaction of having a concrete plan for her next chapter. The radical misfit was never one to feel sorry for herself. She was not the type of lady to sit on a psychologists' couch and talk about her childhood and hug it out.

She opened her 'decision drawer' which provided her with three items which helped her make up her mind. One she always needn't use, the other motivated her resolve whereas the other she had to use in her expeditions. She grabbed first her law degree.....she could not believe how useless it had turned out to be in half an hour. She then clutched at the picture of the rapist......the picture taken of her 7 months pregnancy.....potato patato. It was the only one she had. Besides the picture, there was also the childhood bracelet now lying on her living room floor.

She pulled out a gun from the dusty lower chest. She smiled.

This is an excerpt from my incomplete novel "One Foot." Leave a comment if you think the book is worth it.