It’s been years, about six years to be precise, since that fateful night but I still remember the killing pain, even though I go through life without even a trace of self-pity. I recall the incident in flashes, but I do remember the excruciating pain and the visual of him beating me, very clearly. I still remember the day I met him at the age of 22.

I travelled east to west to be with him, just be with him, leaving behind my fancy consulting career, and the most loving family to whom I lied to for the first time ever. My interest to pursue higher education was only a cover to be with him.

I left my 20 other best friends behind, because of whom I made it through life. I landed at JFK Airport with fancy thoughts of a dream love story in my head. We had made promises of love to each other before, and as we met we couldn’t take our eyes away from each other, and I felt a tug at my heartstrings. I felt tears of joy washing over me, knowing I had someone completing me. Alas, even before I could wipe them dry, I was in for a rude shock.

Soon after, instead of care, kind words and companionship, I was met with verbal abuse, force and assault. I could not imagine it was coming from an Army kid. As he forced himself on me, I felt the overpowering smell of whiskey coming from his mouth. My dreams were drowned in the screams that shot through the abyss of my soul, shattering the silence of the night.

I began hating the word love, something I had travelled this long to win. It was now synonymous with torture. ‘Is this how it is all supposed to be?’ I wondered. I come from an all-girls education, so I had limited exposure to boys and had agreed to the date after only two skype calls.

Curious to find out how things work, I called a friend to know about her first love experience. “Of course it is painful for virgins,” she said, laughing.

This confused me thoroughly, and I went through the rest of the month, dreading it every single night. Thoughts of doubt prevailed, is this how love is meant to be or was I overreacting? Is it just because I am missing my folks? I brushed off all my thoughts, sobbed continuously and slept off. Next morning, I woke up like a numb zombie. I saw him after his 15-day vacation in Burning Man. That day being a Sunday, I had no reason to escape too. He forced me to watch porn with him and asked me to perform acts like those female porn stars were doing.

I figured this was not normal an wanted to refuse him but believe me, a woman cannot refuse an erected man. All hell broke loose that night, I was running a high fever and pushed him away. He picked me up, tied me down with his belt and beat me with his golf stick, till I passed out. I think it was the drug effect because I never saw him being that aggressive.

This was not the limit though; he brought my best friend from next door, who was also the one whom I consulted with often and f**ked her in front of my eyes. I lay there, helpless, and thoroughly shattered, thinking how to get out without anyone around to support me. Everything was under his control and I had to stay because I had no way to escape. All I could remember was my mom, and I wanted to get back home to hide behind her dupatta. I slept off as if I was drugged. I woke up two days later with throbbing pain; I was back in university as if nothing had happened. I was hell-bent on acting normal to make my escape plan. For a couple of days, I just gave in subtly to whatever was happening and then flew back to India. I relentlessly cried while hugging my mom and narrated the whole story. Being a gynaecologist, she first took care of me and then we got the guy to dogs. How we did that, is a story for another day. Since then, I regained everything that I lost – family, career, friends, even my happiness and joy, my smile.

But as for love, I think I can never fall in love ever again.

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