Blood Tears on the Silent Shores

The red waves of the shore and my red bloody tears are the same. They appear, but only at certain moments when the intensity of my pain is so high. Like a sunrise with a soft morning and a sunset with a gentle reminder, these waves of the shore turn red—ultimately fake, the same as my bloody tears for humans, in which they prefer to overthink. Well, not for my heart, as, like the red waves for the sun, these waves reflect my pain, the dualism of my pain. I am so sad that my thoughts are ruined by these humans who don’t even notice a painful soul. How can I call them humans when they are not even ready to understand the pain of others?

You might be wondering what is wrong with this silly doll. Being a feminine in society, it’s normal for me nowadays.

Well, it’s very simple in words, thought-provoking in theme, and painful in emotion to say: Yeah, I was raped. I endured torments, where the dark bunker felt like a grave, and the rapists were like devils, who didn’t even show mercy—just merciless butchers.

My story starts with a dark reality of humanity. One day, I went for a competition to a foreign country. I finally arrived back from the competition with the gold trophy. At the time, gold was so expensive, so I was stopped by some thieves on my way home—my sanctuary, my asylum, which was better than this hell. Unfortunately, they took me for that materialistic shit made of some silly unrealistic metal. I don’t know, but I was trapped with what was probably an anesthetic spare.

When my eyes opened, it was just like a beautiful island, with water waves and new natural things around me. The flowers at my back had a pleasant smell I had never experienced in my life. The views were simple and stunning, and I felt like a free mockingbird imagining an immortal life. The loneliness was so dark, even darker than the dark potential of darkness itself, where I felt the real solitude of my entire life. I was so happy for a moment, which felt like the real existing loneliness. However, there is no true loneliness in words, which is why existential theory is hard to illustrate.

You might be wondering, how is it possible that on one side, someone is trapped in a grave with devils and still feels well?

I know—you’re wondering.

It’s normal for me now; it has become a routine. They come, rape me, and I sit here in front of these shores to face my blood-filled tears.

They tortured me with bamboos, which were easy for the two devils to find in the graveyard of a painful soul. The two devils used a boat, going off for their work and coming back with the same merciless souls. This might be the last night of my life on this island, I was talking to myself.

The two devils were talking to each other, saying, “Tomorrow, we will let her die when we are satisfied and will kill her with that bamboo. I know one of ours could kill her too, but why use ours? It’s not good to waste ours on that bloody busted!”

And it happened. That night, they came into the bunker and took off their clothes. My hands were nailed to the night with bamboos. They unwrapped my body, removed my clothes, and one of the devils had a blade with which he cut my parts to make another way for his satisfaction. The pain can’t be described. You can’t even imagine my pain. They treated me like an animal. I begged them to please leave me for a while, promising I would give them anything, begging them to spare me, but it was all in vain. The blood from my hands and my body, it flowed like the shore—unrealistic to you but not for me. They raped me for an hour, and at the end, they used the bamboos. They were brutal. Their cruelty can’t be defined or justified, but it’s the harsh reality I can feel and understand.

This mind is sucking me, and I don’t know how to explain it more. I am not on the same shore of the island, but this shore reminds me of that hell. The devils are moving towards me on the shore, but this is only in my mind, not real. Yet, this mind sucks me. These thoughts will never leave me, and I can’t escape them. The only thing I can do is realize that everything is fine, even if it’s crazy. It’s madness, but what I can do is accept the reality and face the shore with tears full of blood.

My pain is so abstract; you cannot feel it, nor can you imagine it. For me, the only way is to accept this pain, move on, and wait for my death realm to enjoy my death and death’s song.

This is the heartbreaking story of a rape survivor. After winning a gold trophy abroad, she was abducted, tortured, and raped by two brutal men. Her story exposes the cruel reality of what happens when humanity is lost to greed and cruelty. Though the physical violence ended, the emotional pain continues to consume her. A painful, honest reminder of the silent battles many carry within.

5

This post shares the harrowing story of a woman who survived abduction, rape, and brutal torture after returning from a foreign competition. Her captors treated her worse than an animal, cutting her body and using her pain for their satisfaction. Though she eventually escaped, the mental scars remained. Today, as she watches the red waves along the shore, her blood-stained memories resurface, trapping her mind in endless nightmares. Her story is a powerful reflection on trauma, survival, and the struggle to find peace in a world that ignored her pain.