Categories > Original > Drama > {Untitled}- Stories from the underground
"Myko," my mother sighed deeply, “We would never hurt you but we need money."
"The babies are sick and your grandmother’s health is failing, “My father chimed in.
"Why can't I work in the factory?" I looked at the floor ashamed of what was to become of me.
"This pays more. And where would we find the money to send you to the factory?" My mother lifted my chin so I could see the desperation.
My mother guided me to our pond with little coy fish and deep green lily pads floating about. We sat and she began to fix my hair in a traditional Geisha style as she sung a sweet song. I let my mind drift imagining what would be in store for me. I imagined high-rise penthouses, spotless white condos, and streets crowded sidewalk to side walk. It looked like pictures I had seen of Tokyo that my cousin mailed to me. Mother started putting on my make up and switched her tune to slightly darker tone. Tears stained her cheeks as she stood and led my back to our home.
She laid out a box, “The man bought this for you."
Inside there was a soft pink silk dress. It was from New York but the style was Chinese. The dress had a high collar, gold thread accents, and buttons that ran up one side. I slipped into and my mother buttoned it. It was snug. I felt so foreign in my own skin, like my identity had been stolen from me. I was sent to make tea, for our guest was to arrive soon.
The man entered the room and removed his shoes. He bowed greeting my father.
"Good evening," My father spoke English quite well.
"Hello Mr. Tzu. Forgive me for being late but I had to take in some of the wonderful sights." The American confessed.
"Oh not to worry. It's a wonderful place. I'm certain you would like to take some tea and go over the final, um, transactions, “My father offered the man a seat.
"I would actually like to see Myko first," The American said.
"Ah," My father mused," I shall get her."
"I would prefer to see her in private. I have taken quite the interest in your daughter." The American hinted, “She is very beautiful and I’m willing to pay extra if you would allow me to be with her.”
My father looked at my mother, who did not understand English, and masked his sorrow for joy. He told my mother that the man would pay extra but he omitted the talk of my virginity. Father led the American down the hall to my room and pulled back the curtain.
“She is even more beautiful in person,” The American whispered.
“I’ll leave you two now,” Father hung his head in shame and turned.
The American man stared at me with crystal blue eyes. He fumbled with the buttons on his suit jacket as he moved closer. I hugged my knees close to my chest and tried to remember how to breathe. I kept back the tears because I knew they would do no good. The man came over to my bed and gently touched my face with his rough callused fingers. I shivered as blood rushed to my face.
“No need to be scared,” He cooed.
He roughly pushed my shoulders. I was now lying on my back helpless and beyond scared. His hands raced up my legs sending tremors to my spine. He slowly undid my dress, kissing my exposed flesh as it appeared. He opened the top revealing my naked breasts. He caressed them softly and licked my erect nipples. I couldn’t stop the tears anymore; they fell in streams down into my ears. He straddled me while he removed his shirt and undid his pants. I closed my eyes and pretended I was dead, numb, void, anything than here in this moment losing the only thing I had left. The only thing I felt was a fire rush through me as the skin tore.
When it was over the American put his clothes back on and went to settle the final arrangements.
“I will give you twenty-five dollars,” The man held out the money.
“You promised forty,” Father protested.
“Thirty-five.”
“Okay,” Father caved, “Treat her well.”
“Sir she will be in the best of hands,” I could hear the evil drench his words.
He grabbed my suit cases and told me to come along. He was driving a fancy European car that smelled of leather and cigars. He made me sit in the back seat and told me to put on a head scarf and sunglasses. He also told me my name was Karma. As much as I wanted to argue that Buddhism was traditionally a Thai religion, it seemed useless.
So here I am, a foreigner within myself, a stranger, and feeling like I had lost the two most important things in the world; myself respect and my family.
"The babies are sick and your grandmother’s health is failing, “My father chimed in.
"Why can't I work in the factory?" I looked at the floor ashamed of what was to become of me.
"This pays more. And where would we find the money to send you to the factory?" My mother lifted my chin so I could see the desperation.
My mother guided me to our pond with little coy fish and deep green lily pads floating about. We sat and she began to fix my hair in a traditional Geisha style as she sung a sweet song. I let my mind drift imagining what would be in store for me. I imagined high-rise penthouses, spotless white condos, and streets crowded sidewalk to side walk. It looked like pictures I had seen of Tokyo that my cousin mailed to me. Mother started putting on my make up and switched her tune to slightly darker tone. Tears stained her cheeks as she stood and led my back to our home.
She laid out a box, “The man bought this for you."
Inside there was a soft pink silk dress. It was from New York but the style was Chinese. The dress had a high collar, gold thread accents, and buttons that ran up one side. I slipped into and my mother buttoned it. It was snug. I felt so foreign in my own skin, like my identity had been stolen from me. I was sent to make tea, for our guest was to arrive soon.
The man entered the room and removed his shoes. He bowed greeting my father.
"Good evening," My father spoke English quite well.
"Hello Mr. Tzu. Forgive me for being late but I had to take in some of the wonderful sights." The American confessed.
"Oh not to worry. It's a wonderful place. I'm certain you would like to take some tea and go over the final, um, transactions, “My father offered the man a seat.
"I would actually like to see Myko first," The American said.
"Ah," My father mused," I shall get her."
"I would prefer to see her in private. I have taken quite the interest in your daughter." The American hinted, “She is very beautiful and I’m willing to pay extra if you would allow me to be with her.”
My father looked at my mother, who did not understand English, and masked his sorrow for joy. He told my mother that the man would pay extra but he omitted the talk of my virginity. Father led the American down the hall to my room and pulled back the curtain.
“She is even more beautiful in person,” The American whispered.
“I’ll leave you two now,” Father hung his head in shame and turned.
The American man stared at me with crystal blue eyes. He fumbled with the buttons on his suit jacket as he moved closer. I hugged my knees close to my chest and tried to remember how to breathe. I kept back the tears because I knew they would do no good. The man came over to my bed and gently touched my face with his rough callused fingers. I shivered as blood rushed to my face.
“No need to be scared,” He cooed.
He roughly pushed my shoulders. I was now lying on my back helpless and beyond scared. His hands raced up my legs sending tremors to my spine. He slowly undid my dress, kissing my exposed flesh as it appeared. He opened the top revealing my naked breasts. He caressed them softly and licked my erect nipples. I couldn’t stop the tears anymore; they fell in streams down into my ears. He straddled me while he removed his shirt and undid his pants. I closed my eyes and pretended I was dead, numb, void, anything than here in this moment losing the only thing I had left. The only thing I felt was a fire rush through me as the skin tore.
When it was over the American put his clothes back on and went to settle the final arrangements.
“I will give you twenty-five dollars,” The man held out the money.
“You promised forty,” Father protested.
“Thirty-five.”
“Okay,” Father caved, “Treat her well.”
“Sir she will be in the best of hands,” I could hear the evil drench his words.
He grabbed my suit cases and told me to come along. He was driving a fancy European car that smelled of leather and cigars. He made me sit in the back seat and told me to put on a head scarf and sunglasses. He also told me my name was Karma. As much as I wanted to argue that Buddhism was traditionally a Thai religion, it seemed useless.
So here I am, a foreigner within myself, a stranger, and feeling like I had lost the two most important things in the world; myself respect and my family.
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