My Treasure; your trash

By Eyesthewriter | Eyesthewriter | 26 Apr 2022

Well, she has been masturbating since she was nineteen. Charlotte is from Africa. somewhere around those places where a girl child is subject to nothing except to manage a home and bare children thereby forcing them into marriage before eighteen.

By tomorrow, Charlotte will clock forty and yes. She's a victim; at seventeen she was forced into marriage to an Allahji who died three years later after being diagnosed with AIDs.

I understand what you're thinking right now and you're absolutely correct. Her life had crashed when the doctor whispered that day at her husband's death bed wearing the worst gaze she had ever seen. 'Am sorry Ma'am. your test results shows you've got HIV'.

Though the doctor had encouraged her never to give up in life and could still live a normal life because the symptoms were discovered early so she apparently has a huge chance of living a long life yet all that killed her spirit was the fact that couldn't marry again in order not to transmit the virus to her partner just as Morgan, her husband did.

Although she was told about ARVs yet couldn't imagine herself getting into another marriage after what it had made of her. For a moment, Charlotte tilted her hopes to her only son, Jerry her only hope to stay alive and protect from this shady world.

Her late husband left her with great wealth. Two years after her husbands death, Jerry died mysteriously and this time, it shattered her so she migrated to Europe where she built herself a classic home with wooden floors.

Charlotte had experienced all these tragedies before twenty three years.
Her eyes would be cloudy though filled with hope. It is not our task to judge the worthiness of our path; It is our task to walk our path with worthiness and she knows this although sometimes it feels like she isn't the one she claims to be. Just a shadow of her fantasies away from reality though clutched in her thoughts through the window of self intuition.

over these years, her life has been a gauntlet of loneliness and pains. She would turn the black night into white crying till her eyes ran out of tears to purge the pains and guilt that were growing within her like tumor after she had spent most of the early nights fingering and touching herself.

Somewhere deep beneath her, she knew she wasn't supposed to masturbating but she has HIV and couldn't be with a man whenever her body yearned for the touch of a man so she would grasp her golden vibrator which she had purchased a decade ago on a trip to Poland.

This vibrator costs a fortune and she hid it on the chest of her bedroom drawer. It was her favorite jewel, the one thing that gave her pleasure as she would use it for hours screaming and moaning in fantasy.
Two hours ago, she had gone for a meeting with her counselor when a broad man infiltrated her mansion. 'This lady must be somewhat wealthy' he whispers as he sneaks around every corner hoping to find a fortune.

He had been spying on her for a week now and realized that she would always go out on Tuesday afternoon before 2pm until 7 to 7:30pm when she would return and right now, he has the entire building to himself for about four to five hours and he wasn't going to leave any stone unturned.

First, the diamond jar which was resting by the split unit caught his attention so he dangled it into his bag. He's wearing a black Jack Wolfskin cap with a scarf covering his nose downwards.

After two hours of looting including an envelope containing fifteen thousand dollar cash, he bustles upstairs only to stumble on Charlotte's golden vibrator lying on her untidied bed. She had used it some hours ago before launching out.

His face shriveled like an old apple. "She certainly needs a man" he squeaks. He flings the vibrator into his bag and some diamond jewels then take to his heels.
It's past eight in the evening and Charlotte just arrived home to find the entire sitting room scattered and littered. "I've just been robbed" her thoughts yells but surprisingly, the only thing that comes to her mind is the safety of her golden vibrator.

She quickly surges upstairs hoping to find her golden vibrator but disappointedly, it's gone and not even her golden and diamond bracelets worries her except her vibrator; her man and companion.

The thief sells every bracelet, diamond jewels including the jar but no one wants to buy the Vibrator although it's gold. He's rich already so the vibrator doesn't bother him. He finally sells it for a hundred dollar although it costs millons of Dollars.

To Charlotte, the golden vibrator is like a precious stone that can't be found anywhere but the chest of her drawer but to the thief, it's just a toy some lady uses to cure her loneliness and it's worthless.


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