I trudge slowly down my street, my heart heavy with a miserable 47% in my test. I really hope mom's in a good mood, or I probably won't be getting anything to eat before dinner. I'm thinking of how happy she was this morning, when a big rough hand clutches my face and drags me along the pavement. I try to scream, but I can't see, and his hand is covering my mouth. The hand rips off my backpack and pushes me against a wall. Still unable to see, I feel my school skirt being pulled off violently and my pants slid down to my knees. Crying, I try to struggle free, but he's too strong. As he hastily unbuckles his jeans, I look at him properly. We're in a cold, hidden alley where people dump their garbage, but a ray of watery sun shines on his face. It's grimy, disgusting. He must be about 40 years old. My breath quickens and I start to cry again. I'm being raped. But I'm 12. It's not possible. What would my mom say if she knew? She's Muslim and very strict about our religion. Tears streaming down my face, I see the man tear off his pants impatiently. He throws me and him against the wall, again and again. I can't struggle, or scream. My virginity is crumbling because of a disgusting rapist and I can't do anything. Finally he stops and throws me on the hard pavement, wipes his mouth and leaves me there.
