Maria hadn't slept in two days. Her body was moving, but her mind was stuck somewhere between numbness and noise. People still stared, whispered, pointed. Some laughed when she passed. Some spat. The echo of rapist was burned into her ears like it was tattooed to her skin.
Then came the message:
| "You've been summoned to the counselor's
office. 9:30 a.m. Don't be late."
She knew. Somehow, she already knew.
Maria saw her parents were already called in and was waiting for her to arrive. Maria sat in the worn-down chair in the counselor's office, her eyes bloodshot and heavy. Across the desk sat Mrs Lien who didn't look at her like a person–more like a case file.
Mrs Lien signed, then pushed her glasses up. "Thank you Mr and Mrs Ailenie for coming all this way on such short notice. Due to multiple allegations and pressure from the department and faculty, we've decided to withdraw Miss Maria scholarship and suspend her pending further investigation."
"Withdraw her scholarship?" asked Mrs Rosa Ailenie.
"And what allegations are you talking about, if I may ask?" asked Mr Yok Ailenie.
Mrs Lien took off her glasses and placed it on the desk. "Allegations of her raping and taking advantage of our most generous donator's child of this university Miss Liz Runbert who was drunk a month ago during their departmental party."
"And why would my daughter do such a thing, she doesn't even go to parties." Mr Ailenie said.
"And she's not allowed to go to any party, she's too young." Mrs Ailenie added.
"I was the one assaulted –not the other way around." Maria said quietly, but loud enough for her parents to hear.
"There's no evidence supporting your claim. I am sorry but your suspension is effective next week. You may want to consider transferring her to another university... if any university will take her. Good day" Mrs Lien concluded.
Maria blinked. Her lips parted, but no words came out. She felt her lungs tighten. Her stomach clenched.
They all stood up and left the office quietly.
Maria phone buzzed with a reminder she'd forgotten about–the IVF appointment follow-up she had booked a month ago out of curiosity, before everything spiraled. Just one visit to confirm.
She didn't go to the clinic. But the result had been emailed.
She opened the message in the campus corridor, hoping–praying–it was negative. But it wasn't.
| "Your IVF procedure was successful.
Congratulations, you're pregnant."
Her knees gave out.
The hallway spun. The ceiling. The floor. All of it. Spinning. Drowning.
----------------------------------------------------------
The isolation became worse.
The whispers frew sharper. More vicious. Maria stopped attending lectures–she was too scared to go outside. Too ashamed. Too hated.
She became a prisoner of her own reputation.
One evening, on her way back from the uni's counseling clinic, she was ambushed by some boys in the university.
Six of them.
Laughing.
Mocking.
"Thought you liked girls, huh?"
"Maybe this will teach you what real sex feels like."
They dragged her into an empty lab building and locked the door behind them.
No one came.
No one heard.
They tore her apart, one by one, then group-rape her, calling her dyke, rapist, slut, thing.
She didn't scream. Not after the fourth blow to her face. She just lay there, eyes open, soul gone. The baby inside her–barely real yet–felt even more distant.
Eight hours later, when they were done, they left her broken on the floor.
Maria didn't move for hours.
----------------------------------------------------------
She finally returned home–bruised, silent, empty.
Her parents were waiting.
Her mother slapped her across the face before she could speak. "So it's true?! All of it? You disgust me!"
Her father didn't ask a single question.
"You brought shame to our name," he said. "You ruined your life, and now you want to bring it here?!"
She tried to explaining. To tell them. About Liz. About the lies. About what had been done to her.
They didn't listen.
They shouted.
They cursed.
Her mother called her a disgrace. Her father said he wished she had never been born. He said she had no place in their family.
Then, they locked her in her room.
No food. No care.
Just four walls. Her shame. And the faint heartbeat inside her that reminded her –something still lived within her. Something unwanted. Something innocent.
Maria curled up on the floor, clutching her stomach.
And she cried.
For herself.
For her unborn child.
For the version of her that died the moment Liz called her a rapist.
She wasn't just broken.
She was buried alive.