Forbidden
A The Writing Pen Prompt
by Lois Eighmy
Kadhi Singh. That's me. I'm nineteen and from New Delhi, but my parents moved here when I was seventeen to be close to my mom's sister. They stuck me in a school that's in one of the worst fucking parts of Mumbai. The gangs have pretty much taken over the schools here. The only thing worth learning is how to survive. I can do that, but it ain't fucking easy.
I've never been much of a troublemaker, but that changed when we moved to Mumbai. My friend, Abu Faruqui, and I joined the baddest, toughest gang in the shitty hell hole we called a school. The gang called themselves the Easy Riders. They said they got their name from some old American movie. I've never seen it, so I don't really get the point...not really. The “king” of this gang was a sleazy guy named Malik Samir. If you ask me, he wasn't as tough as he thought he was. He just had friends to back him up. That gave him the illusion of having a fuck load of power. Unfortunately for Abu and me, some of Malik's friends were in adult gangs who bought and sold guns, drugs and humans. This made Malik a very scary dude to go up against.
Abu and I talked about joining one of the other gangs, but none of them had the connections Malik had, and since Malik had threatened Abu at least once, we decided to join him and his Easy Riders. I was never afraid of Malik. I could beat the shit out of him with one hand tied behind my back. But Abu, he cared a lot about his family. He wouldn't do anything to put them in jeopardy. I didn't blame him. I wished I cared about my family like that, but I was still too fucking pissed off at them for bringing me to that rat infested slum to be anything but spiteful.
So, we were running with this gang, and one night, they took us to a house where there were drugs and girls waiting for us. I wondered how many of the girls were from our school and how many were slaves. I don't like slavery. Never have. It really pisses me off that anyone would put a fucking price tag on someone else and not care about who they are, where they've come from, or how tough their life has been. There's just something really wrong with that picture.
Anyway, I was looking at the girls, and I didn't much like any of them. They wore their makeup too dark. Their clothes were too skimpy. Their attitudes and manners...well, we won't go there.
Abu and I sat down on one of the sofas and were chilling with the guys (Malik and three others) when Malik took out some weed. He rolled a joint and lit it up. He handed it to me, but I didn't have a clue what to do with it. Remember, I'd never been in any real trouble. I was hyper and wild, but I'd never done anything remotely illegal in my life. Well, Malik showed me how to take a hit, and I just imitated him, then I started coughing like I was going to hack up a lung. I passed it off to Abu, who had just as rough a time of it as I did.
One of the other guys brought out some beers and turned on some music, and we made a party out of it. The girls got in on the action and, before I knew it, I ended up in bed with one of them.
In high heels, she was tall—about an inch or two taller than me. Her legs seemed to go on forever, and she made good use of them. I never had sex before that night, and I have to say it really blew my mind. Maybe it was the drugs. Maybe not. All I know is that it was better than anything I'd ever experienced before or since. I never knew I could feel so...so...so fine!
After the first time, we went back out to the other room and partied some more. Malik pulled out some heroine and offered us some, but Abu and I were on the same page at that point. We turned it down. One drug was already more than we'd ever tried before. We didn't want to push our luck.
I started to feel dizzy, and I got really goofy. I don't think I made a jackass out of myself, but who knows? I was drinking, too. Anything's fucking possible. I'm normally really hyper. I've got to keep moving or I go freaking nuts, like I've got all this pent up energy that needs an outlet or I'll burst. I don't know why I'm like that. I've always been that way, and my parents could never figure out what to do with me. So, when the weed started making me dizzy and lethargic, I started to panic. I felt like there was something really wrong with me. The room felt like it was spinning out of control. I started to feel nauseated, and I threw up before I could make it to the bathroom.
The girl I'd had sex with knelt beside me and asked if I was alright. That was when I looked at her...I mean, really looked at her. I could tell there was a pretty girl under all that makeup, and I told her to clean it off. She did, and when I looked at her again, the sight about fucking knocked me off my feet. She was stunning! I actually wanted to be with her. I really, really wanted to be with her. I didn't just want to impress the guys or earn points with them like I had the first time. This time, when we did it, it was slower and more...what's the word?...passionate, I guess. It wasn't just a quick, meaningless fuck. It was special. It meant something...at least to me.
I found out her name: Anjali. Ever since that night, I've loved that name. I guess you really do remember your first time forever.
Abu had no problems sleeping around. I guess he slept with two of the girls and never bothered to learn their names. When he told me about it later, he said that if we were going to run with the Easy Riders, we'd need to get used to this shit. He was thinking ahead to what we'd have to do later on, and he was doing what he had to do...distancing himself from whatever he felt about what he was doing. I guess that means he imagined the girls he fucked were someone else. He had his eye on a cute American girl at our school. Maybe he thought of her while he was fucking them.
I ran into Anjali one other time. She didn't look so hot then. She was wearing too much makeup, and she had bruises on her arms and legs. I guess she'd been around the block more than a few times after we were together.
She remembered me, and asked if I wanted to take a walk in the park. She offered to give me a freebie, but I turned her down. It's not that I didn't want to be with her. She was still the pretty girl I'd been with. I guess I felt like I'd be taking advantage of her at that point. I wanted to talk and catch up. We talked for a while, and she told me about some of the stuff she'd been through. She was living with a small time drug dealer, a real sick bastard. He dealt heroine, I think. Maybe it was opium. The guy was fucking a different girl every night, then going home and fucking Anjali.
That night, she told me she had HIV. I couldn't believe it. I'm still stunned. She was such a beautiful girl with her whole life ahead of her. Why the fuck did this have to happen to her, of all people?
I helped her get away from her boyfriend, but I wouldn't be with her. Not the way we'd been together that one night when we were partying with Malik, Abu and the guys. The risk was too high for me to get HIV. I didn't have a fucking death wish. I think she understood, but she was lonely. If it hadn't been for the HIV, I would have slept with her. She was a sweet, sweet girl.
Anjali died last night. I was there when it happened. She was in the hospital. Her HIV had become full blown AIDS really fast, and she was barely hanging in there. I went to see her as often as I could. She always seemed happy to see me, even though she was in a lot of pain. Toward the end, she would comment on how ugly she had become, but she was still beautiful to me. I'll always remember her as the pretty girl who stole my heart, the beautiful girl who gave me the once in a lifetime gift of my first sexual experience.
I miss her. I miss her a lot. I'll always think of her and wonder what would have been, had she lived. She deserved a lot better than she got, and someday I'll make her ex pay for what he did to her. He's a fucking asshole who deserves to die a slow, painful death. Now that I'm out of school, and with the connections I've got, I'm just the one to give it to him...
Text copyright © 2010 by Lois Eighmy.
Forbidden, A Short Story by Lois Eighmy
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