Darkest Shade Of Colour - Mel Afoa

 

 

Stranger danger.

How many times has a loved one warned you of such a thing?

A thing, that brings the worst out in humanity,

The darkest shade of colour.

“Beware, for there are those who have blackened hearts,

Minds damaged and souls all but lost,

Who stalk and prey on innocent and fine-looking people like you”

Mother used to say.

I used to heed her warning,

Take note of the danger she had countlessly warn shielded me against,

Walking home quickly, coming home before dark,

Avoiding social websites like they symbolized a plague.

My pretence skills were all but perfect,

But they came into work when friends and family would talk socially,

Over an infamous video clip made by some desperate teenager online.

“Oh, I totes saw that clip. One word: shameful!”

But really.

Though I tried to ignore the pressure of conformity, the pressure of rebellion,

The walls I built against ‘a thing’ came tumbling down,

When I made an Tumblr.

I couldn’t resist the temptation of making a Twitter and Facebook account too,

Posting photos of happiness and contentment of my friends, family and I,

Ones that had never seen the light of day.

The introduction of the word ‘selfies’ came around,

And I was lost in the sea of making a good impression,

Posting ‘selfies’ that had me only looking at my best,

Even stupidly sending more intimate ones to online ‘connections’.

Connections that only wanted one thing.

Soon I was on Skype, undressing for some connections,

Only because the conformity came to my head,

And threatened me with the promise of humiliation.

But we both know, that I craved the attention,

And I liked it.

It was then that I met a handsome boy from California,

Who skyped me looking for ‘love’.

Met with him when he came Down Under,

On the corner of Martin Road, West side Sydney.

Had a coffee, a $2.45 bagel and a Mars bar,

Awkwardly talked about his DJ tour he was on,

The small talk was agonizing.

Instead of walking around the city as planned,

He took me on a tour himself, to room 45, Travelodge Hotel,

Without my consent, or my knowledge,

Clouded by lust, possessed by sheer darkness,

He had closed the hotel door immediately,

Blocking out noise, blocking out help.

I would’ve loved the attention he had brought me,

If it had been online,

Because a part of me would’ve at least been assured,

That though I was revealing intimate parts to a stranger,

He wouldn’t be there with me physically to scare me.

Nonetheless, the guilt and the humiliation had seeped through,

The tears of degradation pouring down,

Leaving their dark traces against my skin,

As he kissed his way all over my body.

Pleading was out of the question,

For it felt as if the handsome boy was yet to be introduced to the word, ‘NO’,

Refusing to budge as I pushed weakly against his body,

Holding my to-be-bruised wrists with a steel-firm grasp,

Smirking evilly when his fist would harshly meet my skin.

Tied to the bedposts of an unwelcoming room,

The pungent smell of his dark odour lingering in the air,

Lingering on and within my body,

The traces of scares appearing, physically and emotionally.

After he had finished his little rendezvous,

He weaved his fingers softly through my light brown locks,

And for a second, I stupidly thought an apology was on its way,

And as he bent lower to whisper against my ear,

I had a speech already created in my head to forgive.

“You deserve what you got. You asked for this, bitch”.

And with that, he stood in his 7’6 manner,

Covered his satisfied body with the clothes he scattered on the floor,

Threw one last punch against my dirty skin,

And walked out like a boss.

 

Mothers warn you about stranger danger for a reason,

And that reason is as clear as day.

 There are those online and about that have good intentions,

But unfortunately, there are those that have anything but.

Beware, for there are those who have blackened hearts,

Minds damaged and souls all but lost,

Who stalk and prey on innocent and fine-looking people like you.