The Princess and the Warrior

Reads: 158  | Likes: 1  | Shelves: 1  | Comments: 0

More Details
Status: Finished  |  Genre: Other  |  House: Booksie Classic
My name is Gimbya, and this is my story. I lived in a small house with my older brother, mother, and father. My mother said I was the prettiest girl in the neighborhood. Unfortunately, someone else thought so too.
THIS SHORT STORY IS DEDICATED TO INVISIBLE CHILDREN. PLEASE DONATE TO THE KONY MOVEMENT ON KONY2012.COM!!!

Submitted: January 02, 2012

A A A | A A A

Submitted: January 02, 2012

A A A

A A A


My name is Gimbya, and this is my story.  I lived in a small house with my older brother, mother, and father.  My mother said I was the prettiest girl in the neighborhood.  Unfortunately, someone else thought so too.

 It was a Monday when I was abducted.  I was walking home from school through a vacant field.  Our street was about three miles away from our school so this was like any other day.  Kymwaze, Abeni, and I were talking and laughing, when three men walked up to us.  It seemed that Abeni already knew the men, so I relaxed.  She walked up to the man in the middle and handed him some money from her bra.  “This is what I earned so far, Daddy.” She said nervously as he counted the cash.  He smiled and said, “This will do for half of the day.  Who are your friends?”  I had no idea what was going on and looked up at the man as he stared at me.  That’s when I got scared and pulled at Kymwaze, “Hey, let’s go home, I can’t be late again.”  We said good-bye to Abeni, and started to leave.  Just then two of the men grabbed us violently and held our hands behind our backs.  “Leaving so soon girls?  Abeni would be so sad if you left.”  He shoved her and she stammered “Yes, please come with me and Mr. Gamba.”  I wanted to cry but I knew I couldn’t.  After all, I was fifteen years old and crying was for children.  By now Abeni was walking with Gamba and Kymwaze and I were being pushed into walking by the men behind us.  Pain shot up my shoulder blades as the man held my hands together tight and pushed me roughly with the other hand.  Soon a car came into sight.  Gamba sat in the back with Kymwaze, Abeni, and me while the goons sat in the front and drove.  Kymwaze and I were given instructions to put our heads between our knees. Frightened we did so.  As I sat in the back of the car, I heard a whisper close to my ear.  “I’m so sorry Gimbya.  I never meant for this to happen.  Gamba needed more girls for his club and he forced me to.  I’m so sorry” Suddenly she was pulled back up by Gamba.  The ride wasn’t long and soon we were let out of the car.  The club looked like a typical two floor building.  It was close to the market and I couldn’t believe how close I was to home.  The sign on the building said:  WARROR’S CLUB.  I had already come to the conclusion that I would never see my family again, and cried a little while I was in the car.  I was now walking with the little confidence I had, seemingly at terms with my current situation.  We entered the club and there were girls from about 12 to 17, pornography was on every television and girls were either drinking, and talking to men, or watching another girl strip with more men.  We were led by Abeni now, Gamba and his goons had gone to collect some money from the girls watching the performance.  We walked down a long hallway with doors on both sides.  We stopped in front of a door when Kymwaze asked, “What’s going on Abeni?” She looked scared and ready to cry.  Abeni explained, “You have been recruited by Gamba’s club, you are now his property. This is your room Kymwaze.”  She opened the door to let us in and closed it behind us.  She pulled us together and spoke in a hushed tone.  “Take this as a warning.  Do everything Gamba and his goons say to do.  Don’t ever argue.  Tonight Gamba and his thugs will initiate you tonight. It’ll hurt if you resist, so don’t.  To them, you’re just a piece of meat.  It would be wise to succumb to Gamba’s authority and obey.”  She hugged both of us and Abeni and I left Kymwaze in her room.  We walked the short distance to the next door in silence.  Once we were in the room, she let me look around.  I had the vision of where we were going to sleep being a disgusting and dark place, but the bed was big, the closet full of clothes, and the dresser was loaded with perfumes and lotions.  The wallpaper was pink with a big mirror that showed the reflection of a girl I no longer recognized.  The closet was filled with clothes my mother would slap me for even looking at.  As I leafed through these clothes I realized they were costumes, and among them a school uniform.  All I could see in the closet was a bunch of tight shirt paired with either tight shorts or skirts.  I went over to the bed.  It was nicer than the one I had to share at home, with two pillows and pink sheet and purple blankets.Before Abeni left me, she kissed my cheek and looked deeply into my eyes. We had been best friends since kindergarten and I have seen almost every expression run across her face.  But this one disturbed me deep inside.  It was as if she tried to teach me some unspoken language.  “Be strong sister.”  She said as tears welled up in her eyes.  At least I would have her.  Her to take me through the days, to be the one who gives the look of reassurance I need.  That night I didn’t sleep.  I was terrified; sitting waiting for whatever this “initiation” was supposed to be.  Suddenly I heard heavy footsteps stopping and going into the room next door. Kymwaze.  She screamed and wailed loud into the darkness. “Oh God! Please, No!!...”  I cried and prayed to God to help my friend in her moment of pain.  There was a banging sound on the other side of the.  I soon realized it was the head board.  I was no longer crying for Kymwaze but now for myself.  I tried to prepare myself for what I would soon be facing.  Those heavy footsteps started again. Thundering, booming down towards my door.Quickly wiped my tears and pretended I was sleep.  My door opened. The thundering steps quieter now. Making their way slowly to my bed.  Closer. Closer.  I felt a large hand gently shake me awake.  Reluctantly I opened my eyes, and he was here alone.  I was grateful he didn’t bring his thugs with him.  “Shhhhhh…” he said.  “I don’t want to make this hurt but I have to do this.”  All I could strangle out was, “why…?” he grew tense.  “No more questions. Now strip.”  He looked at me with a now icy stare.  Then I remembered what Abeni said and did as she was told.  “And no crying.  I hate crying.”It was horrible; Gamba was a big man, with a large square head and a big stomach so I felt like a strangled chicken being stuffed repeatedly.  Silently I cried.  When he was done he fell on me and breathed heavily in my ear.  All the while I was trying hard to be somewhere else in my mind.Finally he got off me and left the room with a whispered “good night”. In the fetal position, I cried as blood leaked from between my legs.  I would never be the same again.  I vowed to myself to never ever fall in love with another man in my life.  I hated myself for letting this happen.  And I felt like a child; so demeaned.  He will never know what he did to me, what he destroyed in my soul, my innocence.  I am no longer a child anymore.  The realization was made the morning after. I was a three year old weeping and dissolving in a fifteen year olds body.

Now I am Gamba’s personal whore.  I have to be like twenty- something. I can’t remember. All the beatings and abuse make it hard to make sense of much anymore.  All I am sure of is that I want to die.  My name is Gimbya, now they call me Candy.  My mother used to think I was the prettiest girl in the neighborhood, now I don’t really know.  Every now and then I leave money in the mailbox.  I’m not even sure if they still live there.  Are they still looking for me?  Do they think I’m dead?  Death seems so sweet in this hard life, where everyone is the enemy.

I chose this subject because it’s sad that now in this day and age young girls face major dangers in a place where the government is doing very little to save them.  Please help these troubled young women all over the world. By donating to these websites


© Copyright 2017 theprodigychiq95. All rights reserved.