The Ghost Of Sunday

Mohit sat in the corner of his bed, his knees drawn up to his chin. The bed was quite large for a boy who was just 15 and Mohit made a rather tiny figure as he bunched himself up in the corner, his eyes closed and his hands shivering.
 
It was Sunday, a day he dreaded the most. Thats when the Ghost came in.
 
Mohit had lost his parents when he was 10. His Uncle and Aunty had taken him in to live with them. They had given him everything that his parents had, and more. A better school than what he used to study in, all the electronic gadgets he could have asked for….he had to just make a wish and it was granted. He even had his own room and he was never bothered or made to do any housework. They actually pampered him. Perhaps them having a childless marriage was the reason they doted upon him in such a manner.
 
He wouldnt have had any complaints about living with them……if it wasnt for the Ghost.
 
It had all started that Sunday, two years back, as the door to his room had creaked open and the Ghost had wandered in.
 

Hands had started moving over his legs, innocently at first, forcefully later on. It was but a matter of moments that the Ghost got on the top of his naked body, even as he felt himself getting aroused despite his reluctance.

 
The Ghost. Thats what Mohit preferred to call it. He couldnt bring himself to face the reality and the only way he thought he could deal with it is by blocking out the identity of the person and making it into an imaginary character. A Dark faceless figure. Reality was too traumatic to confront, for a child of his age. Atleast this gave him some sort of a relief. A relief that this was not real but a nightmare, which starts every Sunday and ends in a few hours.
 
Atleast this way, he was able to face Monday.
 
He had thought of complaining. But who would listen to him? He was a mere kid. The Ghost had a reputation. They would never take his word over the word of the Ghost. And such things dont happen in a normal society.
 
He had tried broaching the subject to his closest friend.
 

“Shattap Mohit, kuch bhi haan! Such things dont happen, dude” was the reply he got.

 

When his closest friend wasnt able to believe him, he had an almost guarantee that no one else will.

 
So, it had continued. Relentlessly.
 
The Ghost got bolder and bolder with its advances. It thought up of newer and newer things to do to Mohit. Things which Mohit had no idea about. Things which he couldnt stop the Ghost from doing. So he just laid back and let his body take control over his mind.
 
“Fun”…. The Ghost called it Fun. “Time to have some fun”, it said everytime it entered his room on Sunday. It was anything but fun for Mohit. Fun cannot be so horrific.
 

Mohit continued to sit in the corner of the bed, a trickle of sweat on his forehead, even with the a/c being on full blast. His mind blanked out, all the connections with the real world cut off, for those few hours.

 
The door opened, with a slight creaking sound.
 
The Ghost stood in the doorway smiling at him.
 
“Hello Mohit Beta, have you had a good sleep? Time to have some fun …. Sunday hain na…..Your Uncle has just gone out and he wont be back till evening…….”
 
Disclaimer: While the story is fictional and the characters are made up, Male Rape is not a work of fiction. A 2008 study on National Crime Victimization Survey found that nearly 46% of the men interviewed had reported some sort of Sexual Victimization at the hands of women. Though Male rape is not as rampant as female rape, it is definitely a prevalent perversion in our society and in some cases the perpetrator is a Woman.

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