Ballerina

by Jimmy Esmaeili

  THERE IS NOTHING PRIVATE

  ABOUT A PUBLIC FIGURE.

  If the public figures can stand firmly on the morality, then it’s insignificant to worry if media push them over or anything indiscreet is busted out. Increasingly, seems to be about the public/private divide, about what you keep close, and what you can feel belongs to you—your pride, your talent, your capacity to love, and what is beyond your control—other people reaction, your success, the people you love. I didn’t really find a satisfactory answer to question of what makes public officials private matters fair game for public debate. What makes them different than private citizens? Does voting them into office entail an open-door policy into their private homes?

  On the way back home, the light was eclipsed; I was plunged into dark night and I was seeing my naked truth about myself. It wasn’t pretty. In meditation, I passed out of my body and my thoughts. Looking back, I saw that I was not my body and I was not my thought. Looking forward, I dissolved into the luminous void, the ocean of pure consciousness. During driving Sandra kept her eyes on the road and just listening to the music. Suddenly, I noticed to the other side of highway, there was an overturned vehicle as a cloud of gray smoke hung over there. It burst into a fireball in the middle of the busy motorway. A family abandoned their car in the middle after smoke started pouring from the bonnet as they sat in the traffic. But just minutes after they dashed to the side of the road, the car ripped apart by an explosion. It started popping and number of explosions fired pieces of shrapnel across the carriageway. Smoke and flames shot 100ft into the air. It was like a bomb had gone off. A sudden calamitous event bringing great damage, loss, or destruction! As we got home, something was wrong. Sandra was trying to open the door. She pulled a batch of keys out of her purse and studied them for a moment, then tried to fit one into the keyhole. It didn’t work. She tried another. It slid in easily but wouldn’t turn. She sighed and tried a third. This one worked and then she switched the door off. She got the lock undone, the door was stuck and she had to push on it. After all, she finally got it opened. We got in and then I threw my purse on the couch and without any word went into the bathroom, ran the water and stayed for a couple of minutes staring at the mirror with my wide eyes. Sandra emptied all the stuffs in my purse on the table. I wished she hadn’t done it. She saw the powder and bag of weed. When I came out of the bathroom Sandra was already gone. She left a piece of paper with all my stuffs on the table. I took it and read it; “I think I have to do something about it. I am very mad and disappointed today to see those stuffs in front of my face. I still to this day cannot understand why you’ve been doing this other than your needing to get away to think these out. I wish I could figure out, how long you’ve been doing this! I’ll talk to you when I get back home”. It seemed as if I have been spending all my life apologizing to her for things that happened whether they were my fault or not! I was fucking shocked to see that. I sat on the couch and burst into tears. I sat there unable to stop myself from crying. I was embarrassed and I know she wouldn’t like to see me crying like an insane person. The more I tried to stop crying the harder I cried. I had my bath towel wrapped around me and looking weird around. After an hour there was a knock on the door. “About fucking time” I said, opening the door. I thought it was Sandra but, suddenly when I opened the door two men, both of whom had what appeared to be masks, beards or moustaches scrawled onto their faces, pushed their way in. I tried to run away to reach the phone but one of them grabbed me by my hair and pushed me on the sofa. I tried to push him away but he was too strong for me. I let out one brief scream before a cloth gag was forced between my lips, tied tightly behind my head. It was Stretching out my lips, cutting deep inside my mouth. Thick masking tape normally kept in the kitchen cupboard. He tied my hands behind my back, making tape round my wrists and hands. One of them grabbed with his arm my tied hands which were behind my back while the other his arm encircled my bare stomach, drawing me against him.

  “I love white ass. It makes me wild and horny”. Now the other guy had to look for something to tie my feet with. He just came back with a pair of stocking and a scarf and then they grabbed me to my feet. As he was binding my feet, he stripped me almost naked and fondled my body. If it wasn’t for the other one, I was sure I would have been raped by now. “Hey man, we’ve been told just torturing her not to rape her”. He was too nervous to say that, while he was standing in the corner, smoking a cigarette. He took a deep drag on his cigarette and I assumed he seemed very serious with his intentions to me, then he shouted in a warning sound told the other one; “You better take it easy on her. You know she is pregnant. So, be careful man”. “I just want to fuck her ass. Look at it, it’s so fresh and smells good.” I was trembled in fear. My heart lurched when the other one looked at me, not really at me, but towards me, his eyes sightless. I knew his eyes were doing the pity look, he couldn’t help it. He just left the room. I tried to pull away, my bound arms limiting my movement. In this time the other one sprang in a passion of eagerness to the room. He excited and with a yelling loud; “Hey man, look what I found. (While he was showing the package), look at it. It’s Cocaine. I got weed too. These motherfuckers, bitches! I bet you they had a fucking party before we came here! Now, leave that bitch alone. Come on let’s get high. I found them on the table in the living-room. Hurry up”. While he was putting his pants on, anxious and excited said to other one; “Yes, it’s cool. (He just grabbed a frame by the window), come on. Pour out half of that shit here. ”They were sniffing and watching me weird, kind of dog barking at me, hoof, hoof, and hoof. Such maniacs! I was mumbling with myself. Then the same guy came towards me. He took off his pants down to his knees, standing in front of my face and said; “I let you suck my penis gag.” The other one interrupted and dragged him by his half-way down pants to his knees and started to yell at him; “come on you fucking perverted. Let’s get out of here. We have to hurry before she shows up. Let’s go, come on. Come on”. He took the stuffs and put in his pocket and both standing on the bedroom’s door, looking back to me, one of them said; “just tell her next time you’ll be dead. Stay out of his nose”.

  When I opened my eyes, there were bunch of police there. I could see shock on their faces. They asked for details, and I was still astonishing calm. I knew it was important that I should be. They immediately began to broadcasting details on their hand radio. One dashes out. Sandra came to the room and held me. I could feel her hot breath in my ear. She had this look of her face of shock, just shock. I can’t imagine being raped and it is an awful, tragic thing to have gone through. This is what scared me the most since I’ve been abused by my father and being trapped in anyway is sure way to get me under any panic attack! Since then I had of nightmare circumstances until today. I wanted to put on my clothes, but she cautioned me not to do. She helped to find a gown. The police asked me not to remove anything because they wanted to fingerprint it. I had all my medical aid details, the police had radioed ahead to the hospital telling them I am rape victim (How I hate the word victim). I hated getting out of the house and walking past the people in casualty, who will stare at me. My left hand was caked in blood. There were some dark patches on my wrist. I was wearing a gown and had masking tape in my hair, around my wrists, neck, ankles and knees. A young nurse guided me into a private cubicle and left me. I didn’t want to lie on the bed. I don’t want anything to do with beds. I don’t want to sit down because then I feel moisture between my legs. Even though I don’t believe he achieved orgasm. Sometimes we think death will be solution after being raped! But I believe we have to hold on to the narrow suspension bridge and strengthen it in our mind’s eye. The deepest wound rapists inflict is not the path of a knife or imprint of a hand. It is psychological assault, and the law, the old and new drafts, fails to take that into account. During torture or rape we survive by maintaining control over our mind. There is nothing we can do about the pain and degradation our body is experiencing. Our mind is our tool of s
urvival, but after rape, our terror becomes such that although our body may heal, or may resist HIV, our minds threaten to implode. The brain that helped us to survive during the rape endangers us over weeks, months and years as it returns to terror. Often at the most unexpected times in the most unexpected ways! She was crying and untying my hands and watching my scratch whole the way up my arm. It took a while for Sandra to calm down. They put me in the ambulance. Sandra has already informed them about my situation. She stepped into the ambulance with me and crew. She was crying and holding onto my hand. Sandra was sitting in the waiting room of the hospital. There too many people and not enough nurses to take care of everyone. There was not enough either space for patients to be comfortable. According to all of that people and beyond naked eye observing an image of a woman how awful, embarrassingly walking and clicking on the tile floor with those hard heels of her new dressed shoes! It made Sandra so wrathful and fiercely (Angry looking). There was another man who was ushered to a small room. He was handcuffed with zip ties on his hands. There were two officers, one of them standing in the corner and the other one behind him. “Put him into that chair”, he ordered the other one. The man with handcuffs on, he found himself forced down onto the chair, a heavy wooden chair, bolted to the floor. He was going to fall through the seat when he sat on it, finding out that it only consisted of two slats, spread widely apart that supported his body. It made a little smile on the corner of Sandra’s lips. Poor Sandra, after six weeks being in a coma and today in this hospital and……She remembers how she slipped into the coma state! It seemed the stuff of nightmares, to lie in the hospital bed, unable to speak or move-not even an eyelid, to understand what people say to her-and not be able to respond. Even to hear her fate being discussed, without being able to have her say. I’m examined, smears are taken. I mentioned that my arms and stomach are aching and the doctor then examines me for bruising. Only a few are visible. After all, after urine test the doctor told me that I’m already pregnant and I begged him to abort it. But when the nurse was rubbing some of that Arnica cream on my arms I could see tears running down to her chin. The doctor told Sandra that I should stay in intensive care for only a few more days before I’ll be able to go home. Three years gone. How you know it wouldn’t do to dwell on dreams and forget to live! Despite all the joys and grieves were mingled in the cup; but there were no bitter tears. For even grief it arose so softened, and clothed in such sweet and tender recollections. That is became solemn pleasure, and lost all character of pain Heavens knows we need never be ashamed of our tears, for they are rain upon blinding dust of earth, overlying our hard hearts. In that afternoon, it was just right sort of weather for jogging in the park. I headed down to the little park below, which had a little view across the water and a lovely long fish pond with a stone bridge across it. Then imagine an awful and terrible picture of a man who dozed and drooled on a bench in that park as a pair of local resident did their best to ignore him. It made me feel too pain and it really knocked me off my feet. Something I’ve looked for a very long time. Well, I don’t know what the future holds!

  The sun is bleeding and the ash is snowing

  In the distance the fire is growing

  The trees are shrinking and my heart is sinking

  Yet, I’ve never felt more alive

  How can I cry when there is no way to make amends?

  How can I fight when there is no lesson in the end?

  Sandra has just recently started a job in a smaller attorney’s office. She said she didn’t enjoy anything about being a legal secretary. I believe she fell in love with her boss. That was funny to hear when she said; “I once loved lawyers. Then I hated lawyers. Now I love lawyers again. Once I thought I fell in love. But I was wrong, I fell in a hole! The deepest of the hole was proportionate to how obvious I was of the fall”. What you know, how people interpret the love in their dictionary! My personal idea about marriage is; the success in marriage isn’t in marrying the right person, it’s being a right person. I believe marriage is like a dog with a bone, he might not touch it, just doesn’t let another dogs come near it. I never wanted in my life to marry. Sometimes I hate men, and sometimes they are worth to be hated. My imaginations to my past few years, and how I’ve been a little bit of a punk! I haven’t given it much through, drifting from day to day, assuming that I’ll just muscle through it. I am sick of the BULLSHIT that some people, mostly men say that “All guys do it” and “There’s nothing wrong with it”. What counts it what you feel, not what everyone else does! These are just excuses to make us women feel stupid and insecure and like we are psychos. Sometimes I feel women have to put up with a lot more crap than men do. Ray is a drug dealer and his job burning up the young’s preys and sends them to a vision of events that conclusion is death. Well. This is America. People do whatever the fuck they feel like doing. You got a problem with that? Because they have a right to! Or because they have guns and narcotic and no one can fuck stop them! I remember the day that I had been told that I was to be discharged from hospital. Sandra was already there to get me home. We had a little chat about this and that and then she told me that she was mad when she saw the bags, (she looked deeply in my face). You know what I’m saying? (I was totally silence. I just blinked my eyes a couple times), she continued; I left you without a single word, but I wish I didn’t. How dumb of me! She lacked the courage to complain. There was no passion or enthusiasm behind her words. When I asked her for advice on how to create a better life for myself she said; go and throw them into the sink and let the water drain off. It just will take about a second. The way she said, it seemed so straightforward and simple, but for me, ha, ha! That will be terrible and terrified even to think about it! Sandra was very seldom home. She sometimes calls to know how I’m doing! But she’s not here to support me with my depression anymore! They said, the depression and the person suffering with depression are not the same thing, so, we have to keep them separate. When we express pessimism, anger, frustration, or sadness, it is the illness talking not the person. My thoughts were so busy recently to revenge on Ray! Here what will happen to him just like Adam (The first man), at his death. God told him: you will return to the ground, for out of it you were taken. For dust you are and to dust you will return. I wish he returns to that same state of nonexistence! I’d like to revenge him and wipe him off the ground. I want to kill him and send him to state of nonexistence. I want to raze him to the ground, to batter down, to destroy, to annihilate, and to erase him, to wipe him off the world. I can see wave after wave of the fear of parents who lost their sons, daughters and even their each partner to those drug dealers which spread panic among them. Revenge is a dish best served cold! He drugged my father before he threw himself out of the window. He murdered Amy and shot Sandra and put her in a coma. He fucked me and got me pregnant and I had to abort it, which scarcely I have to say, I had to kill the baby in my womb. He ruined my reputation and my dignity. The longest and shortest distance between people is time. I barely at this time I’ve most definitely lost my patience in my life, and now I break the distance. It’s time. But there was always a time for reflection on the changes that would occur in my life. I can see today clearly my higher power was working in my life before I was aware of it! I want to have a harmful action against Ray and his gang in response to my grievance. I want him payback, retribution to my justice. I think people who are more vengeful tend to be those who are motivated by power, by authority and by the desire for status. They don’t want to lose face. But my vengeful is lengthened to motivate by power. I want to revenge and my motivation is DEATH. Revenge is driven by emotions and similarly pleasure. Killings done for revenge are usually performed at the spur of the moment at time of emotional anguish and always result in the killer apprehended by the authorities. Revenge or vengeance consists of relation against a person or group in response to perceived wrongdoing. Although, many aspects of revenge resemble or echo the concept of making things equal, revenge usually h
as a more injurious than constructive goal. The word revenge is always considered to a word with grey shades. This word describes the feel of going against the norms of society and committing a wrong deed.