The woman was hurting me, deeply inside. Why did I keep reading and confirming my worthlessness with each email I opened? I wiped my tears defencively...as I thew her email in the trash, only to retrive it (as I'd done countless time before) afterword and save it with the others. What inside myself kept me coming back for more, despite my growing rage and anger? Some part of me knew this was a sick relationship. That I was sick for encourging it.But... as disparaging and insulting She was on my. Ours was a very orthodox family believed in women is always lower thanman and she is for serving the man. But I hated these theories and Iloved to be independent, I wanted to be free and I wished to wear onlyboy's clothes. I hated to wear saree, half saree, salwar kameez etc. butdue to my father's perforce I used to wear it. My mother braided my hairand gave me all the jewelry like earrings, bangles etc. and always toldme to go to school by binding my head and coming home early.Then after some. The next set resembled a baby bottle; another set was the female symbol.Each of the six sets was unique. Bob looked up at the kid, saw nobody else in the shop, and smiled, "Lets play."The kid nodded his head and sat up. He grabbed the rules sheet, and started to read aloud. "Each person takes one set, and one set only. Place one piece on the board until all spaces are covered... bla, bla, bla." He chuckled, "Hey, get this rule. Never ever under any circumstances play with more than one set per. "Now hold that until I tell you different," Garysaid.The pain in his gut was horrible as waves of noisycramps moved inside him. He cried and screamed, butwith his mouth securely full, the only sound in theroom was the breathing of the waiting men and hismuffled grunts.It seemed like forever when Gary lifted him andcarried him to the toilet. His bowels exploded topush out the watery mess from his gut.The men laughed.Gary put him back in the position on the floor withhis butt in the air. This.
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