Innocence and Providence

Reading Time: 5 minutes

It was still seven in the morning. Kylie was walking back home after having worked the night away. She felt sore, her whole body ached. All she wanted right now was a hot bath and a warm bed. But she knew she should not even dream about such comforts, as life did not allow her these things. She came from a poor family. Her father, an old drunkard, had died while she was yet a one-year- old child. Her mother, having been unable to rear her up, had given her up in adoption to a neighbor. Cara, as the ‘nice’ lady was called, had been ‘nice’ to her as long as she had been a child. Her behavior had changed as soon as she had noticed body changes in Kylie. Find out what happened to the protagonist, in this interesting story by Anoucheka, in the regular column, exclusively in Different Truths.

“Women’s angel must be sleeping,” said a bitter Kylie to no one in particular. “Yes, indeed, he must be sleeping. Or he is simply not bothered about what is happening in this world.” People seemed not to hear her. She walked on her way and made as if she did not notice anyone as well.

It was still seven in the morning. Kylie was walking back home after having worked the night away. She felt sore, her whole body ached. All she wanted right now was a hot bath and a warm bed. But she knew she should not even dream about such comforts, as life did not allow her these things. She came from a poor family. Her father, an old drunkard, had died while she was yet a one-year- old child. Her mother, having been unable to rear her up, had given her up in adoption to a neighbor.

Cara, as the ‘nice’ lady was called, had been ‘nice’ to her as long as she had been a child. Her behavior had changed as soon as she had noticed body changes in Kylie. Kylie had been thirteen at that time. She had just started menstruating, and at the same time, she had come to  that innocence was just a fable for . Yes, life is not sweet and rosy. Life is evil, hinged with the desires of men. And she, still young and freshly bloomed, was more than a .

Now, seven years later, Kylie, though tormented, still looked good. She was petite and plump. She had a thin layer of shoulder length hair, which looked so smooth and silky as she cared for it well.

“Always make it a point to look your best,” Cara had ordered her. “Your beauty is your breadwinner!”

Her skin, thus, was flawless and, when accentuated with makeup, gave up an otherworldly . She was indeed much coveted by her clients. She worked every single night of the week. Her resting time was simply then when she was menstruating.

Kylie walked on to Cara’s home. She often referred to it as Cara’s home for the latter had made it clear to her. Her mother had died a few years after giving her up for adoption. Kylie hardly remembered her but she thought about her every single day.

“This is my home!” Cara had said. “Your mother abandoned you. You are at my mercy and if you want to stay here, with food and clothing given to you, you have to abide to my rules.”

The road was deserted and Kylie walked on, lost in her thoughts. The ordeals she had to go through last night played in her mind. Revolt and disgust overwhelmed her. Last night’s client had been an old married man. His wife had been informed that he would be out of town for the night due to some important work issues.

“My wife is too old,” the man had told her with a smile. “You are young and fresh. And more energetic.”

Kylie closed her and shuddered. She found herself suddenly unable to control her disgust and stopped by the side of the road to throw up. The man had been disgusting. Sex is repulsing. Sex, as she has always known it ever since she was thirteen.

Once, she had found a book in Cara’s shelf. It was about some love story between two people. Kylie was schooled, she could read. And sex had been portrayed in there as being beautiful, as being sweet, as being something pleasant. Sex, in that book, had been linked to the magic of romantic men. The type which seemed not to exist in Kylie’s world. Yet, as she gathered herself back and walked on to Cara’s house, Kylie could not help but wonder why it hurt her so much and why she felt like she was being used as a mere object each time. It was still early. Kylie knew that once she would reach Cara’s home, she would have to forget.

It was still early. Kylie knew that once she would reach Cara’s home, she would have to forget about the hot bath and the cozy bed. She would instead, have to get busy washing the dishes, cleaning the house and preparing lunch for Cara and herself. Then, in the afternoon, if she would be lucky, she would have time to clean herself and rest.

A feeling of imposed obligation came over her and she wanted to bring it down. She wanted to be free, she wanted to enjoy life. Hot tears welled up in her eyes at the thought of how life might have been for her if her father had not died and if her mother had been able to take care of her.

“Maybe,” she said to herself. “Maybe, life would have been just as I read in that book. Love, romance, comfort, sweet and pleasant sex!”

But Kylie sighed and popped out the bubbled castles she had been building in the air. She had come home. Now, she would have to follow Cara’s orders. But something was wrong. As soon as she walked into the narrow driveway, she could see that something was horribly wrong. The front yard gate was wide open. Cara, much cautious about her illegal activities, always made sure that such was closed. Intruders and legal officers were to be kept at bay. Kylie walked on and noted that the front door was open as well as all the windows of the house. Something was definitely wrong.

She walked up the driveway and hesitated before going inside the house. Maybe it was one of the vagabonds living nearby who had come to steal money or something. Maybe Cara was injured inside the house. Kylie gulped and called out,

“Aunt Cara! Are you in there? It’s me, Kylie. Am home!”

Her voice came out as being so feeble and weak that Kylie wondered if it was herself speaking. Usually, her voice was stronger and toned with tints. Just then, a female police officer walked out of the house! Kylie gasped!

“Do you live here?” she was asked.

“Yes, y-y- y-es,” stammered Kylie. “My real mother gave me in adoption to Cara when I was still a child.”

“Do you know that this woman here is accused of procuring sexual services to men in return of payment?”

Kylie stared at her feet.

“Answer please,” the male police officer said.

Kylie took out her payment from the pockets of her jeans and handed it to them. Just then, another female police officer came out of the house, with Cara, hands bound in handcuffs.

“She forced me,” Kylie whimpered. “Ever since I was thirteen.”

“You will follow us to the police station, young woman,” said the police officer. “You will be taken in charge by the concerned authorities. Do you agree to collaborate with us?”

“Yes,” whispered Kylie. “I will. I will do anything to save myself from life’s hell!”

Cara looked at her and silent tears fell down her face. Kylie rushed in the house, took the romance book with her and followed the police officers.

“The angel watching over us, women, has woken up. And if he allows me to, I shall assist him in saving others who are like me,” she thought with a smile.

©Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Photos from the Internet.

#CrimeStory #ChildProstitution #Fiction #Pain #AgonyOfLife

Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Anoucheka Gangabissoon is a primary school educator in Mauritius.She writes poems and short stories on a wide range of subjects.She publishes regularly on online poetry sites and manages her own poetry blog.She has published a collection of poems in print, in her country, titled “Awakened Fancies.”
Anoucheka Gangabissoon

Latest posts by Anoucheka Gangabissoon (see all)

Share