YOU WILL NEVER BE MY GOD, FELIX.

🦋 BENITA 🦋

On September 25, 2009, I lost my mother when I was just 10 years old. That same day, my father remarried, bringing a stepmother into my life.

Ten years later, on September 25, 2019, I was uprooted from my father's house and thrown out, like a weed. I found myself sleeping in the filthy corners of the street before I began working in a bar where I also had to sleep.

On September 25, 2020, I got into serious trouble that nearly cost me my life, and I had to pay off the debt with myself.

Then, on September 25, 2021, I was sold to Mr. William Cunningham, the aging CEO of Julian Financial Services. He was old enough to be my grandfather. It was on this cursed day that the real horror of my life began.

Just a year later, on September 25, 2022, I attempted to escape from Mr. William by climbing over a wall, but it only resulted in broken legs and nothing more.

It's always the same date: September 25, the day of horror-my birthday.

And today, on September 25, 2023, I'm trying once again to save my life, though I fear it won't end well because it's September 25.

***🦋***

I ran down the dark, quiet street, my bare foot bleeding from the countless cuts I acquired from the sharp objects my foot danced on while trying to escape.

My stomach cried from starving for days, and my throat tightened from thirst.

But I ignored every pain in my body; the most important thing to me at that moment was escaping. It would be worth every single pain I feel right now if I find a saviour.

A car zoomed past me, and I chased after it with torn clothes, breathing heavily and screaming, "Help!"

The car didn't stop, and until it was out of sight, I didn't get tired of chasing after it. I collapsed to the ground, my heavy and fast heartbeat was mixed with tears of sorrow. If only my mother weren't dead... would my life have turned out differently? It all started with the death of my beloved mother.

I saw another car speeding towards me, dragging myself up, I stood at the center of the road, it was my last hope – you either save me or kill me.

The car came to a stop, I puffed out a sigh of relief. I thought my terror was over. Four men stepped out of the car, and with the last strength I had in me, I whispered, "Please help me!"

The front man chuckled sarcastically, and before I knew it, three men were holding me down, and the last one was on top of me.

I already knew what was going on, but I had no strength to scream or fightback, I just mouthed, "Help me!" continuously and wept silently while the four men I thought was going to save me took turns in raping my virginity out of me.

The pain was unbearable, compared to all the physical, emotional, and mental abuse I've been through, I felt worse. My life was just not worth living.

At that moment, I felt like everything was taken away from me. My sanity, my dignity, my self-confidence, and my hope. It all shattered into bits and evaporated into thin air.

When they were satisfied, they began to beat me up, kicks and punches, I got them all. I was only lucky they had no gun or knife on them because it appears they wanted me dead to cover their crime.

Not a single part of my body wasn't injured from the effect of the abuse, and when they thought I was dead, I watched them jump into the car with half-closed eyes.

Hopeless and tired, I gave up, and for a second, my heart stopped beating.

Thrown back to life, I inhaled sharply and began to cough out blood. Even death wanted nothing to do with me... how unfortunate.

I picked my broken self up, my thighs were covered in blood. I tried to walk, but I couldn't, so I crawled instead.

After crawling for several distances, my knees began to bleed. I looked up and saw a police station in sight. Weeping happily, I stood up and endured the pain, feeling motivated.

I got to the police station in no time, and at one glance, they could tell I needed medical attention, so without asking any questions or asking me to write a statement of whatever happened, I was taken to the hospital and given food and water.

For that hospitality, I will always thank the police officers.

After a few days in the hospital, once I was ready to be discharged, I was taken back to the police station.

When I got to the police station, they handed me a pen and paper and asked me to write a statement. Before I even got started, the chief of police received a call, and the only thing I heard was, "Yes. We have Miss Benita here in the station." After that, the paper and pen were taken away from me, and I was told I no longer needed a statement, because someone had already explained what happened.

Confused, I went on to explain, I said everything I have been through without leaving anyone out, and the police chief responded, "I was told over the phone that you were going to say whatever you just said. I'm glad he already told me; I might have fallen for the lies you just made up. As for those who raped you, we'll fill a report on your behalf."

I was devastated. I stood up and attempted to run, but I was pinned to the ground and handcuffed like a criminal, the real criminals was roaming around freely, the real criminals did this to me, so why the fuck am I the one in this stupid handcuff?

A few minutes later, a car arrived, and Mr. William, alongside all his men, stepped out of the car.

I began to tremble, "Please don't let him take me," I cried out, but nobody was on my side.

It was like the police weren't even there at all, or they were blinded to whatever was happening. I was packaged into the car, and boom... it was back to square one, back to the exact place I ran away from.

🦋 BENITA 🦋

Everybody has a story to tell, but I think mine is the worst. Being unfortunate is a curse that's clinging onto me so desperately that I fear it might follow me to my grave.

Police officers are friends to nobody but money. In my experience, when money started to speak, I was silenced.

Right before their eyes, I was bundled and thrown into the car, but everybody said nothing.

As we drove out, I struggled to escape, with a hard smack on my head, I blanked out.

I was dragged into the mansion as always, a place with four edges of tall walls, a place where I could hardly breathe, a place that reminded me of nothing but sorrow.

"Take that brat to my room." Mr. William's voice echoed out.

I was thrown roughly on the bed, clinging onto the blanket to suppress the desperation to be free and tears of frustration that flooded down my face.

Soon, Mr. William walked into the room laughing sarcastically, an old man like him who should repent and prepare to die, how can he be so demonic?

Holding my legs, he dragged me closer to himself. I struggled, pushing him away and crawling underneath the bed.

I could swear I could beat the old man up easily since he had zero strength in him, so why didn't I? Probably because thousands of men are out there waiting for an order to skin me alive.

Angrily, he commanded his men to lock me up and forbid the maid from serving me food or water... It was no new thing to me, it was just the usual normal day in my pathetic life.

Right there, I had a dirty thought, to just bite off my flesh bit by bit and die, wouldn't that be a better option?

I was thrown and locked up in a dark room. The darkness was peaceful but scary, but nothing has ever been more scary than my life; and finally, I was able to rest from all the chaos of the morning, in that quiet, lonely, dark room.

A few hours later, Mr. Williams walked into the room and kicked me back into consciousness.

"My business partner would be here in an hour," he blurted out. "Show him around. If he asks for your body, give it to him. The most important thing is his investment; do everything you can to make sure I bag this investment. If I don't get this contract signed, you are going to pay for it with your life; understood?"

I slowly nodded my head, and he stormed out of the room. The maid walked into the room with a dress, an extremely exposing dress, and very high heels.

It was more like I was the one to be advertised and not any goddamn business.

I slowly took the dress and wore it, looking like a harlot that I was forced to become.

His guest arrived and, after ogling at my exposed body, he requested that I follow him to a hotel to satisfy his needs so he could think well about signing the contract.

And Mr. William's answer goes like this, "Yes, go on, she's yours for the night. As long as you sign the contract... You own what I own."

It was arranged, held down by Mr. William's men. I was held down in the car to be assured I wasn't going to escape.

When we got into the VIP room, I was thrown into it, behind me was an equally old man offering a contract to Mr. William.

As soon as we were left alone, I fell to my knees, "Please don't do this to me, I'm young enough to be your daughter, help me get out of this mess; I promise I'll be good." I begged desperately.

A hot pre-boiled slap landed on my face, "You sl*t! You think we are here for business? Get to the bed and prepare yourself to be used."

I stood still, not moving an inch, the only sound in the room came from my silent tears, and then his voice rang out again, "Do you prefer I send those men in to tie you down?"

I gathered my courage and climbed onto the bed, after hours of messing with me and making me feel miserable, he climbed down.

That night, I sobbed until I fell asleep, I wept because I pitied myself, and I had no single reason to smile. Perhaps one day, everything would change for the better.

I woke up to an unsettling silence, my mind foggy from sleep, and I slowly sat up, scanning the darkened room.

The bed beside me was vacant, the sheets rumpled and cold. A shiver ran down my spine as I realized the old man, Mr. William's business partner, who wanted to sign a contract with us, was gone.

Panic sent in as I swung my legs over the side of the bed and jumped up to search around. Did he run away to avoid signing a contract with Mr. William?

As I looked around, my legs bumped into something, and I slowly looked down and found my legs covered in blood. Trembling, I trailed after where the blood was coming from, my footprint, painted with blood, stamped the ground with every step I took.

And when I finally got to where the blood flowed from, I was paralyzed, frozen in terror, unable to move.

My body began to tremble, the trembling spread, a creeping chill that seeped into my bones. My teeth chattered, my lips quivering.

Mr. William's business partner lay behind the table with his head torn open and his eyeballs staring into the void, he lay there with every blood vessel in his veins popping out... he lay there – dead.

🦋 BENITA 🦋

To hell with me being alive!

I stood there, my body numb and unresponsive, and none of what was happening made any sense to me. Why is he lying there dead? Did I kill him unconsciously because of the much anger that was boiling inside me?

Yes, I thought life wasn't fair to me, but I'd never kill a man, I didn't kill him, right?

Fear gripped me tightly, its icy fingers wrapping around my heart and squeezing tightly. I couldn't breathe, couldn't think, couldn't move. My heart just pounded in my chest, a drumbeat of dread that echoes through my entire body.

I felt like I was going to burst, like a fragile balloon filled with water dropped on cold stone.

I wanted to speak, scream, and scold him as to why he had to die in a room I was the only one in, preparing to make my life much more aggravating than it already is – why?

But I was silenced by the crushing weight of fear.

When my brain began to function again, I immediately processed what I had to do... Run!

I stormed down the street, running as fast as I could, my feet pounding the ground in a frantic bid for freedom.

For a reason, I couldn't dare to look back, I just kept on running.

Soon it was dawn, and the police began to chase after me. The siren echoed everywhere around me, and deep down, I knew I was close to being caught. Regardless, I kept on going, counting my options and my breath.

A few minutes later, I was thrown into handcuffs and forced into the police car, but I said nothing... I was desperately trying to think.

We got to the station, and I was tossed into the investigation room. By then, I was done with all the thinking I had to do, and I was assured that I definitely didn't kill that old man.

"Why did you kill him?" the police man asked firmly.

I stared at him, my tongue was tied, but I was screaming on the inside, because no matter what I say, a businessman was found dead in a hotel room, only I was in... nobody's going to believe me.

"Confess!" the police man screamed angrily, "You were sent to kill him, how did you kill him?"

A drop of tear escaped my face as I whispered, "I'm actually the one who needs saving, not him."

"Playing innocent won't help you," the police man snapped back, "How much were you offered to do it?"

The police man stood up angrily, his hand gripped my shoulder, his fingers digging deep into my skin. "Say it," his low, menacing voice growled in my ear.

I swallowed hard. The grip on my shoulder tightened, "Say it!" he repeated.

I took a deep breath and forced the words out of my mouth, "I don't know how he died, I didn't do it."

Angry and disappointed at my response, the police man pushed me to the cold, damp floor, my body screaming in agony.

The police man's face was twisted in a snarl as he picked up an iron, its metal surface glowing red hot.

"You killed him," he growled.

I shook my head in dissatisfaction, "I didn't, he was already dead by the time I woke up."

"Then why did you run?" he reasoned out.

The iron came down, searing my skin with a sickening hiss. I screamed, my body twisting off the floor in a futile attempt to escape the agony.

I felt my skin burn, my muscles melt, and I was covered in sweat, trapped in a living hell with no escape.

Time lost all meaning as the torture continued. I was consumed by pain.

Suddenly, the iron was withdrawn, leaving me gasping for air.

The police man's face loomed over me, his eyes blazing with fury, "You killed him."

I sobbed uncontrollably as I whispered, "No!"

The police man's boot came down on my chest, forcing the air out of my lungs.

"Tell me what I need to know," he screamed.

"Help me!" I murmured.

The pain was severe, my body felt like it was on fire, the police man applied more pressure, I felt my ribs crack, my lungs burn. I was swimming in pain.

Suddenly, the door burst open and a voice shouted, "That's enough!" The police man lifted his boot, and I gasped for air.

Left alone in the investigation room, I struggled to sit up, a wave of dizziness washed over me, sending me back down.

I cried out in frustration, my voice barely above a whisper.

My ribs ached, my entire body was bruised, and my face... My face felt like it had been smashed in.

I reached to touch my face, wincing in pain as my fingers made contact with the swollen skin. My eyes felt puffy, my lips split and tender.

It's only when a man with status dies that you uncover how strict and hardworking a police officer can be.

Without warning, the pain, torment, and torture continued. After what seemed like an eternity of living my worst life in jail, the police man walked up to me and announced... "You are free to go; we have learned from his doctor how he died. He suffered a heart attack and fell, hitting his head on the glass table in the center of the room during the fall. You can go home now. We sincerely apologize for the situation you experienced. The surveillance video only showed you running out of the room, which led us to believe you were responsible for what happened. Under the pressure from his family, I felt compelled to extract further information from you."

I laughed out sarcastically when I heard the news, after facing consequences for no reason, this is all I get? This is all they have to say, nothing else?

Perhaps the price was my freedom; that was what I thought until Mr. William's car landed and parked in front of the station.

The little hope I had immediately disappeared. I glanced at the police man and he responded, "We reached out to your guardian, he's here to take you home."

I firmly closed my eyes, feeling a wave of disappointment wash over me as tears streamed down my face. My mind was flooded with anxiety, frustration, and resentment. I was not going to be forced to relive moments I thought I had left behind; I refuse to accept this eternal doom.