Tweeprose: ‘Aftertaste of Vulnerability’ by A. N. Gretly (for @Nourhan_K)


She was fifteen when it happened, which was too young of an age. Of course, there’s no minimum age for being raped, but still, little blue-eyed Angela Ealey had her whole life ahead of her. She was walking home from a friend’s house, a wee bit tipsy from the whiskey her friend nicked from her dad’s liquor cabinet. It was ten in the evening and she was three blocks from home when a white SUV with tinted windows slowed down to a stop right next to her. The door to the driver’s seat opened, and Jake Miller, a boy whom she went to school with stepped out of the car.

“Hey, Angie.” Jake giggled.

Angela was taken aback by this. Up until that moment, she did not know popular Jake was aware of her existence. She had a major crush on him, and she often fantasized about him while she touched herself at night.

“H-hey, Jake.” She stuttered.

“What’re you goin’ out this late?”

“I was at a friend’s house,” She answered, trying to compose herself “I’m on my way home.”

“Is that right?” He smiled “Well, why don’t you hop in? I have my dad’s car, I’d be happy to drive you home.”

“Thank you, I’ll just walk; it’s not too far.”

“Oh, come on, Angie.” He insisted.

Angela looked from Jake’s smiling face to the car, and back to him again. She felt a tingle in her body, and a heat wave under her skin.

“Alright then.” She said.

Jake opened the door for her, and she climbed in. As soon as she got in the car, she saw three guys sitting in the back seat; they were Jake’s football teammates. Jake got into the car, and slammed the door shut. That’s when she felt a lump in her throat, and a twist in her guts. She was about to say something when the car jolted forward, and suddenly, she felt hands all over her body. The smell of booze reeked from the boys’ mouths as they kept pawing at her, ripping her clothes off.

It lasted two forevers and a part of an eternity. All the pain, all the tears, all the muffled screams that did not do her any good. But it ended. She didn’t know when, but it ended. Angela found herself in a ditch close to a highway, cold and in pain, the taste of blood in her mouth. It was all downhill  form there, except it wasn’t really a hill, but a shear fall.  Some cop found her and took her to a hospital after a while. This was followed by a series of investigations that led nowhere, even though Angela named her rapers one by one. Yet, all the detectives, and all he doctors blamed her for what happened. Even her parents, her own family called her a disgrace. The news said she was drunk, of course, which she wasn’t, not really. After a few months of bullshit, the boys were found not guilty.

There she was, Angela Ealey, a fifteen year old girl who got gang raped by her fellow classmates, and then got blamed for having her virginity stolen from her. A girl who was shunned by her friends and family, by anyone and everyone. And so she ran, she ran away from home. She ran to Creekwell City, and walked the streets like all the other outcasts. And on her first night in the city, some guy tried to pick her up. It was then she realized that this was a rape culture, that she did not own her body, that sooner or later, someone else was bound to rape her again and again and again, because what rights did she have? She felt like a walking  piece of meat. Angela Ealey decided that if she was going to get raped anyway, she might as well get paid for it. From then on, she was known as Angel Eyes, a streetwalker.


About Ahmed Gretly

Ahmed Nader Gretly. Construction/Site Engineer, fiction writer, poet, psychopath, researcher, a book addict, and a daydreamer from Cairo, Egypt. Currently doing Construction Project Management, MSc, at Heriot-Watt University, Edinburgh.
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