6:18 am
Arash awakes for his morning meal, expecting Yakhni Palaw with extra boar. The day is hotter than the hearth. My body is still sore from the night, but I know better than to complain. I bite my tongue while serving food to my abuser.

8:56 am
I scream in terror as the acid seeps deeper into my eyes. Riping, oozing, peeling. The men laugh and resume their gambling, and Arash hits me as I struggle to adjust my hijab. There is no hope.

10:37 am
There- My old classmates gazing at their teacher with wonder . They recite the Dari alphabet with the teacher. Just 7 months earlier, that was me. But the dowry was paid, and I was trapped. I was expected to obtain the fact that I’d been sold to a man three times my age so my brother could buy a used car.
Father burned my books after I left home, and all my hopes of pursuing my education to become something other than a slave to men burned away with them. The two years I attended primary school were the greatest years of my life. My life rolled down hill; further and further down the hill as I grew older and and more fatigued.

12:45 pm
I watch my 12 year old hands slowly calice and become decrepit as I scrub Arash’s Khet partug in the river. The baby kicks. Hush, child. Keep quiet, stay hidden. And please, I pray, be a little boy. Baby, be a boy. The garments fall into the sodden river. The pressure of a boot exerts me into the forward, and I become sodden myself. Stay safe, baby. Stay content. Arash returns with the riffle. Blows to the hands and feet. They should heal soon.

1:21 pm
As I feed the chickens, I catch a glimpse of a young girl, no older than 5 or 6, tending to an infant. The baby squirms in her arms, and the child doesn’t have enough clout to keep her contained. A second of not holding on always ends fatally. Blood stains the dirt road. A blow to the head, and the child’s gone too. Foolish girl to bring her brother out in public. She would’ve been alive if it was her sister.

3:07 pm
I make my way to the river to collect water for Arash’s  meal, but cautiously this time. Rice is needed too. The jars are full enough for tonight, but a trip to the market must be made tomorrow so he does not get indignant. Our meat supply is gone from the Yakhni Palaw, so the traps will be utilized tomorrow as well. Slice! The spinach knife cuts my finger. I bandage up the wound, tend to my acid burns, remove the bullets, and prepare myself for the events of the night.

Arash wants bata for dinner. 

5:39 pm
“Dinner is served, shauhar.” Arash is still sweaty from work. He seems satisfied with his meal. I haven’t let him down; yet. Arash spits out a piece of spinach. “I taste blood!” He is enraged. Stupid, senseless girl! I am bathed in acid like it’s warm water, and a finger is amputated just for his amusement. “I’ve had a long day at work, I deserve this.”

8:13 pm
I am bleeding everywhere, and my body aches in pain. You’d think he’d show mercy if his son’s life was at risk, but he is cruel just the same. My insides twist and pinch and stab me until the pain is no longer tolerable.  “How could you do this to our child?”

I had lashed out at my husband; a foolish mistake for a young girl to make.

6:18 am
My father didn’t even attend my funeral.