She deserved it. It should have happened to her long ago. She was a national shame. An embarrassment to her country, her culture, her religion. She was an attention whore. In fact she was actually a whore. They laughed at her antics. They laughed at her outrageous attempts to grab attention. And when she was killed, they laughed even louder. Good riddance! They said…another piece of rubbish disposed.

“No…” whispered the little girl, clutching the burqa with her dainty fist.
“She was not the shame.”  her voice quavered, as tears of anger pooled in her eyes.
“She was not the embarrassment.”
A single drop ran down her face.
“And she is not dead.”
She threw back her veil, no more was she to hide her tears behind that piece of black cloth.
“I would rather be a whore than a toy.”
For the first time in her life, she stepped out of her house with her hair let down.

Unashamed, unafraid.

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