My Yuri Harem: AT LAST: THE PAST [7]

The cold, bone chilling winter.

Mapalla, Trigman and I were raised in an orphanage in Dhaka, Bangladesh. There was always an explanation why a child was in that orphanage. I guess they wanted to give us a footing to stand on and not a reason to lament. We were not treated badly per se; we did consume three meals a day and sweets on festive occasions. Apparently, our orphanage was one of the many which was funded by foreign textile industries. We learned later that it was their attempt to hide child labour activity and money trafficking for tax evasions.

I was brought to the orphanage following a huge blast when I was nine. I can’t remember when or where it took place. What I do remember is the sonic impact of the bomb against my eardrums. I can still emulate the vibration I felt in my body at that moment. I was received by Father Gonzo, a priest who ran the place. I knew he wasn’t practicing religion when I understood what he and the other priestesses did in their time off.

It was a decent place with stone floors and concrete walls. I was introduced to other children, a total of twenty-five of them. Eighteen boys. Seven girls. Well, with me included, it was eight girls now. The youngest one was an eight-years old girl. The oldest one was a fifteen-years old boy. The fifteen-year-old boy was appointed to show me around, which he seemed not too happy about. The group dispersed only until two boys were left. One of them was obviously the fifteen-aged. The other one was standing besides him, smiling at me.

The boys gave me a signal and I started walking behind them. They introduced themselves as Mapalla and Trigman. Mapalla Pavlona was a Mexican boy with lanky body and dark toned skin. He was a tone darker than the wheat skinned. Apparently, Mapalla’s parents came to Dhaka for earning some money for his school. But when they found out he was dyslexic, his father abandoned his mother and went to Mexico alone. His mother, out of trauma, blamed Mapalla and started smashing her head against their house’s wall and ended up in a mental institution.

Trigman Gallant was an English boy. He was a chirpy individual why trotted all the way while he introduced me to new environment. He was an eleven-years old guy who looked like he was sixteen. He was tall for his age, and the proportionate body did help convincing me. He told me that he was in Dhaka because he murdered his bodyguard. Apparently, he was a troubled child. His old house life was not stable. Having a business man dad and a gynaecologist mother, they excelled in their professions. But they fought every second they were together. So Trigman started killing off family pets to get their attention. What he gained was scoff.

Trigman was sent on a Southern Asia tour with his butler and bodyguard so that he could reflect on his actions. His parents thought that the representation of the poor would convince him to understand his parent’s situation.

Was this whole plan an indirect explanation of their situation or excuse?

Thinking about it, it can be the reason!

I think Trigman saw through this farce, and in the Bangladesh, which was their fifth stop after Pakistan, Nepal, Sri Lanka and India, he murdered his butler in his sleep. A stab through his ribs with a rusted machete he found on the street.

He called his father from his hotel room and let him know about the nightly activities.

All his dad could say was ‘Thank god’.

And then he hung up on Trigman.

His parent abandoned him in the middle of the night, in the foreign country, with no economical help.

At last he turned to an orphanage for support.

That was two years ago.

Mapalla and Trigman entered the room with six beds. All of them were shabby, but they were clean and nicely organised. One of the beds did not have the bed sheet or a blanket on it.

Mapalla pointed at the bed and said,”That bed is yours.” He pointed in another direction. “There, you can find sheets and blankets.” He then pointed at the main door. “Go two doors down the hallway we came from. That is our room.”

He had no expression on his face. It was completely blank. I could not tell what he was thinking, so I just nodded timidly.

Mapalla took two steps in my direction and crouched, whispered something in my ear, and left me.

My bones were chilled after what I heard.

It was around two in the morning. I did hear some rumbling around, but I did not pay it any mind. Or rather, I had forgotten what was going to happen. I realized it when I felt a gush of hot air near by tummy. I opened my eyes lazily and saw a guy had pushed my shirt up and was touching my bare skin.

Immediately, I opened my mouth to scream, but only muffled voices came out. I had a handkerchief tied around my mouth, and there was another guy who was almost done tying my hands with his shirt. I started wriggling around like a fish out of the water, but the weight of the boy near my legs neutralized my efforts. I was moving my body in any way possible so that I could prevent my body touched by his hungry hands.

All the efforts were to no avail, and it got worse when the guy tying my hands tied them against the bed.

Now both of them are free to violate me!

I CAN NOT SHAKE ONE PERSON OFF; HOW WOULD I EVADE TWO OF THEM?

I could feel the breath of the first guy all over my torso. I barely had my chest covered, and the winter outside was not helping. I was shivering with both fear and winter. I was twitching.

Finally, I could feel his breath hitting my right nipple. Now, I could not hold it. I had to do something.

Miraculously, I did not cry, but I did start screaming on top of my lungs, hoping somebody wakes up and push them off me.

My muffled voice got louder and louder with every attempt. I was pushing the handkerchief down to get my mouth free, and I was happy to see the possible opening. All the time, the guy pushed my shirt right until my neck, baring my upper body. The second guy just stood there, waiting for his chance, I believe.

I guess the first guy reached the tipping point, so he started rubbing his hands all over my chest. Now, I could not hold it. I gave up

I Gave Up.

My body’s shaking was lessened. I stopped moving around because I was overcome with fear. My muffled voice turned into cries as my eyes started watering. I was sobbing heavily and at the same time, the guy was lowring his hand. It went from my bare flesh to my thighs. He gaped his mouth open and let out the saliva of lust drip on my pyjamas. He was repeatedly touching my inner thighs, while I was a sobbing heap of helplessness.

The other guy had his hand in his pants and said slowly,”Hey hurry up Lad. Somebody might come.”

The first guy glared at the second one, and then softened his expressions. “Nobody is coming at this time of the night. The father is already busy with the nuns, so we can have our time.”

“Not Quite” A voice came from behind the guy.

It was a similar voice, the one I heard in the afternoon.

It belonged to the same person who whispered “We are escaping today. The Priest has a lot of money, and we are taking it all. Then, we make our escape. If you want to join, you will have to endure the demons who will come hunting you tonight” in the afternoon.

The guy went from laying on me to turn to face Mapalla, ready to punch him across his face. As soon as he turned around, Mapalla pulled him in his direction. It looked like he was hugging the guy. Seconds later, the creep received Mapalla’s love.

Mapalla stabbed the guy in his left hip with the kitchen knife. He pushed the guy’s face deep into his chest. The hug was to supress his screams. Which it did. Alongside flailing his arms around, punching Mapalla in his waist. Since he was in pain, he did not have the full strength to resist him.

As he was flailing around, the second guy charged at Mapalla, but caught the full swing of Trigman’s punch across his face. Before his body could hit the floor, Trigman caught him mid air, as to not make any unnecessary noises.

I was lying there, crying with no control. This time, I had a faint smile across my lips, because I was saved.

Trigman came next to my bed and closed his eyes. Very carefully, he grabbed the corners of my shirt, and pulled them down. He did not open his eyes until he felt the cloth was stretching, which meant my body was covered again. Then, he went near my head and opened the knots, freeing my hands. Mapalla dragged the guy off my bed, so that my feet were free too. I pulled my legs and crumpled myself on the bed.

Trigman changed the positions with Mapalla and was holding the guy at bay. Mapalla reached infront of me and called for a coat. I looked up to him, while he wrapped me with this oversized furred coat.

“Here, this will keep you warm. I already have the money, so we are ready to move. The priest is having sex with the nun who is head of security. This is the best night to flee.”

I could not move a muscle, my body was shaking, but I did not know why. I was not moving a muscle, and still there was twitching in my movement. I was sitting still, and still my world was spinning.

 I extended my arms and kept them on Mapalla,s chest. Then I softly moved my head and put it against his chest too. I could hear his heartbeat.

It was calming.

It was beautiful.

It was like

Family.

I started bursting. For me, there was no end to my crying. My tears were not of fear, but content.

My world had changed so rapidly in recent time, but I was content with all the changes.

I was content with my parents’ death.

I was content with this forceful attempt on my body.

I was content with his haughty attitude.

I was content, as long as I could follow these boys around.

Mapalla and Trigman, you are my reasons.

My reason of hope.

My reason to live.

My reason to breathe.

It was 3:48 in the morning.

Three kids with pockets full of money, were catching their breaths at a local tea store.

There were chairs around, and local songs were being played.

The three kids went to the shop owner and asked for three cups of tea with sweet buns and milk rusks.

They sat down on one of the tables and waited for the food to come.

One of them said he was going to look around for something and left the table.

He’d be fine. I thought. He has a knife on him, and he saved my life today.

I have full trust in him.

He returns after ten minutes with a bulky guy.

“Everyone, this is Mr. Dote. He is a truck driver, who is hauling lots of hay. He is also headed towards Nepal. I have asked him to help us get back to our school we got separated from. Mr. Dote agreed to this. Everyone, thank Mr. Dote.”

We were lit under our skins. We were going to another country, away from all this tragedy.

“Thank you Mr. Dote.” Me and Trigman said in a unison.

“Its all well and good, but your parent will pay for my help, right?”

Mapalla replied instantly, “Ofcourse sir, they had the finances to help us out, but they are running into legal troubles. We are children, so we do not have our passports. That’s why we seek you to lend your hand in this complex situation.”

“Ahh, I’m feeling really hungry…” Mr Dote said.

“Don’t worry, breakfast is on us. Please order what you may like.” Mapalla was rather chirpy.

As soon as Dote left the table, Mapalla took a sip out of his tea, and threw it out because it was cold.

He wiped his mouth and let us know all the details.

“Nobody is going to look for three orphans. We will start a new life with this money. We will also give Dote some of it.” He dipped the rusk in cold tea, took a bite, and continued, “Nobody is allowed to speak for the next three days. That is how long it would take for us to be hidden in all the hay and make it to Nepal.”

“But Map, how did you convince him? We don’t look like” Trigman questioned

We discussed some more details, and we were ready to move at around five in the morning.

Dote stuffed us in the bails, and sprinkled disinfectant, which had a bad stench.

This way the guard dogs won’t notice you guys, He explained.

This started our three-day long journey. Only stopping for eating food. No breaks for bathroom, and minimal talk.

It was not as cold as we expected, but we also didn’t feel much because we were asleep most of the time.

At the end of the journey, we reached Kapan by 4 pm. Dote dropped us infront of Daffodil School, where we told him our parents would be waiting for us.

We came out of the hay, all covered in our piss, but safe and sound. We stood next to Dote, pretending for our parents to come, when Mapalla just threw bunch of banknotes in the sky. They entered Dote’s field of view and he crouched on the ground to pick them up. When he turned around, it was only him standing infront of the school.

We ran as fast as we could, as far as we could.

The legs were wings, which hadn’t been spread in three days. Thus we had the power to cut through the wind. We were dashing through the streets like roadrunner, only difference being that there was no coyote to chase us.

We ran.

We dashed.

We escaped.

We jumped into the horizon.

With the screams we let out at that moment, that is what Mapalla and Trigman’s bickering sounded to me right now.

Three kids, all grown up.

This did feel like home.