Flashback 20 hours ago. Sitting inside a big house (at least the biggest they'd ever been in) they'd just been taken from their hiding place.
Flashback a week. One little girl had just been spoken for by a 52-year-old man. Not as bad as it could have been economically speaking; he had paid very well. This little Indian girl was only nine.
Flashback three days. Terrified the nine-year-old and her twelve-year-old sister decided to run away. Not wanting to leave the family destitute they took nothing. And in order to stay hidden from the imminent search parties, they only walked and wandered at night. But with no destination or food, they couldn't be expected to make it far. And they didn't. A day and a half later the twelve-year-old crawls down from a tree, their secret sleeping place, and begins to dig through the nearest garbage bin for food. Luckily, or perhaps unluckily, she found some old . . . well, it was something edible and takes her prize back up the tree to her nine-year-old fugitive. But soon the stomach cramps start. Next rolls in overwhelming nausea and soon neither have enough strength to remain in the tree. Slowly they crawl, almost falling, into a nearby bush, but they've been noticed. The man had sent out a search party to collect his prize, after all, he had already paid, and the wedding was in two days. Unfortunately, they were sicker than he'd hoped but on the side of fortune, he had acquired two for the price of one.
Flash forward. Just opening her eyes, the nine-year-old felt exhausted and disoriented. On first seeing her sister she feels like all must have been a dream. She's not been sold into an arranged marriage fetching a high price for her . . . virginity? "Is that what they call it again?" But then she sees the man's silhouette. Her heart sinks but not much before it's traded for panic. Soon strange smelling women scoop her and her still unconscious sister off of the ground. They replace her tattered shawls with colorful veils, slippers, and a Kurti. They paint her in the foul-smelling mud until she's nothing but a mesh of alluring designs. But the worst part was when the hot needles and chains began to pierce her nose and ears. By this time her sister had awoken but they had quickly taken her away, so the nine-year-old was left alone, simply waiting for the night to arrive. Surrounded by brass statues and carpets she suddenly felt very alone. But she had no tears left, so instead, she begins to speak, what we would call praying. She'd heard of a God once and thought maybe he or she (she didn't really know which) would listen. Maybe he would even know her name . . . nobody else seemed to or didn't care to use it. But maybe he or she would. She sat very still and looked up at the ceiling, trying to see up to where God was. Playing with her hands she didn't know what to say, so in a little voice she said the only thing she could think of, "Please, God . . . sir, just don't let it hurt."
-Natalie Cherie
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