On Marital Rape

Ali Raza
7 min readNov 28, 2023
The moon has heard a million cries.

WARNING: The following content contains Suicide, Rape, Murder, and Sexual abuse.

Not scared, nor sad, she looked into his monstrous eyes every chance she got. He couldn’t tolerate it and punished her tries by coming up with new ways to punish her for her sins. Sins she had never even committed. She wasn’t surprised or shocked when it started. It was as if she had been expecting it. Somehow, it was always a fact to her. She knew she was gonna suffer like that, again and again. It was her fate and she had accepted it. She had tolerated hell when it came to physical pain, but this time, the pain was worse than hell. Her body was unable to tolerate it. It was as if her heart was about to explode any minute. She wanted it to explode. Wanted it to end. But, it didn’t. “Sometimes there’s just no way out of suffering, some people are just cursed.” she thought to herself. It was a long dark night. But eventually, it passed. Just like those twenty years that had passed.

She tried telling her mother about it the next day when he left her at her parents’ home. She did so to empty her chest, expecting no help from her. “It’s normal, let him do whatever he wants, he’s giving you a roof to live by, don’t be ungrateful” she replied. Not something she couldn’t have anticipated. She wasn’t surprised at all because she remembered how this woman did nothing to fix or revenge her daughter’s suffering. She could never forget how her mother had blamed her abuse, along with everyone else. How could a kid cause someone to rape them, she could never wrap her head around it. She had discretely discussed it with everyone she had trusted her whole life but they all reacted in the same strange way. Most couldn’t even understand what she was saying. The idea of “marital rape” was alien to them. They could never wrap their heads around the fact that a woman can say NO, even to her husband. That it was her choice.

Throughout the day, she kept thinking about how she could still end up with a man, becoming his object, when she had spent all her life trying to convince her mother to not marry her off. Her efforts to avoid going through the same pain went down the drain, and so did her prayers. But she knew it was not her fault. It was not her choice. Just like it was not her fault when she suffered from the same hell when she was a kid. It was the norm. All those who suffered, or were still suffering, had no other choice…
It had been twenty years since that long dark night. The wounds didn’t seem to heal. Time didn’t help. It was as if time had stopped for her, right there, right when the pain was at its peak. Despite the fact that her wounds were as fresh as day one, she had learned how to live with them. She had gotten used to that pain…
That Trembling of legs, thumping of heart, shaking of hands, the loss of conscience, lack of emotions, the restlessness, and the utter anguish, all these things were common to her now, she had gotten used to it all. On the outlook, it was as if nothing had ever happened to her. Nobody could tell what storms of anguish were buried in her chest.

Let alone falling in love, the mere idea of a man holding her hand had disgusted her for her whole life. Marrying someone? There was no chance!! She hated all men to her core. She considered all men worse than pigs. Whether pigs were bad or not, she had no idea… she just considered them the most disgusting because the religion she was born into taught that. Romance? She had to skip a million books just because of how much she hated that word. But it was fate. She was stuck in a vicious cycle of suffering. Maybe the vacuum that true lovers create by loving someone with all their soul was what caused it. Perhaps she was the one who was to fill that void they created. Perhaps she had to be the yin and balance things out by taking all the suffering on her soul.

A day and night passed. She was brought back. She was back in that room. Sitting in a corner, on the floor, she stared at her elevated bed. There were still some rose petals left. “Spreads flowers and then… and thenn-” she murmured. It was an uncontrollable absurd murmur. The pain she was going through caused it. Her whole body was sore. She was in utter pain. Constant, uncontrollable pain.

Eventually, the time came, and the night before yesterday repeated itself. She was expecting it even though she tried her best to stop it. She begged him. Begged him to understand. Begged him to not further scar her soul. But he didn’t listen. The pain was even more intense. Tears fell sideways from her eyes. Her expressionless face and her vision, both were red as blood. She kept staring at his face, tried moving like last night, tried shouting, but it was all in vain, he covered her mouth every time she cried out loud, she could almost see him enjoying it, she could see it on his face.

How can a human do this, she thought to herself. An animal could not have done something like this. The possibility of it happening, doesn’t that make us humans worse than animals? she thought to herself, in her head,…
Just before her marriage, she had finished reading 1Q84. Despite Haruki’s unsuccessful tries to justify pedophilia, she read it till the second volume and admired Aomame with all her heart. Back at her mother’s home, she had planned it all. She had prepared herself. She was about to be the Aomame of her life.

She was waiting. She waited for a long time. In tears. In pain. She waited for him to let go of her wrists. She had decided on it already. She had decided to end it. Once and for all. She had decided to take revenge. She had decided to break the vicious cycle and rebel. The minute he let go of her wrists, she slowly slid her right hand under the pillow next to them. Her neck was his next grip, she was gasping for breath. If she hadn’t done what she was about to do, she might as well have died because of lack of oxygen.

Without letting him suspect anything, she gripped that sharp knife in her fingers. She was following in the footsteps of Aoamame, like a student. But in a wild way. Using her own new method and the murder weapon. In a split second, she gathered all her courage, and fast forward to three seconds, it was over. The knife was through his neck, sideways, and his blood was oozing out onto her. She instantly gasped for breath because her heart had clearly skipped quite some beats. She tried moving but his wait wouldn’t let her. He was in the other world. In the other non-existing world. He died in an instant. She felt powerful killing him. There was no guilt at all. She was at peace. At ease. The storm was over. There was no more suffering. But she didn’t know what was next. She had only planned it till this point in those couple of hours that she had spared to think.

Sitting in the same corner she had sat in earlier that evening, she stared at the scoundrel’s dead body. She was drenched in his blood, shivering. Hina on her hands was barely visible because of the redness of his blood. Her whole body shook. A million thoughts came to her mind. It was as if she was reliving those twenty years, all again. It was as if there was no way out of her pain and it was a vicious cycle. She could bear it no more. Walking out of his room, then his house, she stood in the middle of the dark street, covered in his blood, shaking. There was no one around. They were all deep in their slumber, just like her rapist. But the only difference was that her rapists’ sleep was gonna last forever. The only place she remembered was that beautiful Canal. She had always loved coming to her aunt’s house because of that Canal. Yes, he was her own cousin. She had never known him much though. They were almost alien to each other because of the extreme segregation… Walking on the pavement, barefoot, she eventually reached the grass, then damp soil. She could see the beautiful water. The moon and its reflection. It was all beautiful to her. It soothed her soul…

The water was cold. It felt good on every inch of her skin. She kept making bubbles and managed to let out all the air from her lungs, the deep canal devoured her further into its depth. She eventually touched the bottom surface of the canal. Laying in the muddy water, she waited, waiting for the time to come. And it came. She could no longer keep the water out of her and felt it push into her sinus, then her trachea, and finally her lungs. It was very painful but nowhere near what she had been through her entire life. It took no time when it all went blank and the time was no longer relevant to her and she ceased to exist… or did she!?

Note: I am from Pakistan. The concept of marital rape is still alien to people around me despite their education levels. Not only that, a lot of people do victim blaming which disgusts me to my core.
Not one, but many people I had been very close to suffered through similar traumas. Today I couldn’t bear it anymore. I had to let it out somewhere, somehow. This was my imperfect attempt to convert the pain that I feel for them, into words. Feel free to write your thoughts in the comments. Thank you for reading!

— from the archives…

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Ali Raza

Software developer // writer. Into philosophy, literature, and comp. science.