Letter by Reem AlShaikh

Posted on March 13, 2012 by


‘Who goes first this time?”


“No! Me!”

“Doesn’t matter well all get a chance; this one looks like she’s got one hell of a threshold.”

I watched helplessly as they undressed her. Her long dress no longer seemed long, it seemed as though it was a tiny kitchen towel. One that’s would never be able to cover both her top and bottom half. One that barely existed. She tugged on its poorly stitches edges as if it had potential to grow, but she of all people knew it was just a small dirty barely capable kitchen towel that’ll leave her exposed. But that no longer mattered; the dark tall man approached her first. He wore a dirty ripped sweater that wreaked of petroleum, 80’s sweatpants with a white stripe along the sides, and large combat boots. His hair hung over his non shaved face. He pulled back his long greasy hair as he walked up to her revealing his 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6 scars. He chuckled loudly at her helplessness. His dark eyes proved he had no mercy, eyes that had forgotten that he too had a sister and mother. He carried himself heavily toward her, dragging his feet, constantly reminding her that the seconds would pass as hours and that the minutes would pass as days.

He reflected the light off his switch blade into her eyes as he twiddled It in his rugged sweaty hands to remind her of the pain she was going to feel to tell her this was real. Real as it’ll ever be. He popped open her dress with a tiny cock of his knife, and there she stood naked as ever with four grown unethical men in front of her and like the coward I was known to be. I just watched as they took turns taking away all her rights, beliefs, what she lived and breathed for. I mean, what was I supposed to do? Run over to her, hand her her dress and just wait for them to mock me then screw me over like the tiny fool that I was and fuck me too? They finished, got dressed, and left her lying on the floor. A corpse would’ve seemed more full of life next to her. She laid there so fragilely. It’s quite heartbreaking, really. At the beginning of it she screamed, yelled, spat, resisted. But inevitably, by the 3rd guy, she caved in. She was now able to look back into his eyes; when he kissed her, she kissed back – when he laid her down she spread her back out even more and when he went into her she enjoyed it. Within a range of 15 minutes, I watched a pure innocent virgin forcefully turn into a whore. I could’ve tried calling for help, but I just wanted to be safe. I know it sounds inhumane, cruel, selfish, and I may even sound like more of a whore than she did. But I’m not as bad as you might think, you are all worse. You’re pretending like this doesn’t ring a bell? No? Well, don’t be to modest you stand like the perfect bystanders day-to-day while you watch our millions of people in our fellow Arab countries embark upon much worse things every single day. If you think I was bad, you my friend are way worse.



Your buried humanitarian side.

Posted in: Letter