ROBBED BY THE BAD SAMARITAN





The words for telling certain stories are difficult to get. The trauma and lasting shame it brings to your personality, the thoughts of the thing lost that cannot be regained.
These were the barriers keeping this story you could have learnt from long ago.




Without permission, his mission to accomplish. He was strong yet wrong.
T'was a peaceful night till dawn.
I lay down in my bed with sound sleep after the toil of the previous day.
At least I now have a place to lay my head for no cost.

He broke my door with his one hand holding the gun with the other. I could not stand what he was in for. So I fought back with a slap on his face. Though hard per my strength, I knew it made no real impact on him.
At least he paused and I thought he would retreat.
Instead, he re-schemed what he intended.

He consoles me?
The nicest robber I guess. After the consolation which I overemphasized being the woman I was. With the pack of surprises he had for me, this robber pointed the naked gun to my face. His gun he wielded with a wild look on His face.
Without violence he sought to take my possessions. All I toiled for all my life to keep. Only that his robbery was in style. Not a style I so loved.

He gave me a strange look and a face of desperateness when I pushed Him away with a knock on that deadly gun. After all, I am the one in his room.
That gun my mother said was used to rob many young women like myself.
Now he applied force because the persuasion wasn't helping the situation.

Pushed me to the wall and plundered me before I could think another though 

So the Good Samaritan of the night who offered me a room in the night, became the Bad Samaritan of the dawn who stole my innocence.
Now I have lost it.
Be wise on how you accept free gifts. Beyond the beautifully painted sepulchers lies the moth-infested carcass and bones you don't want to see.




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