Critical Threat

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As Sabera walked along that evening she made the fatal mistake of thinking that she was a free woman.

She was on Victoria Street in Westminster with her new friend Aysha, walking away from Parliament Square, feeling more alive and exhilarated than she’d felt in the last four years. Her life had become so stultifying, as though the pillow of a lifestyle that had been imposed on her by duty and expectation was smothering her. It had been a life of restriction, small-mindedness and fear — and she had been treated like a dog. That was not what she had signed up to, not what she had been promised; an existence of subservience instead of equality and of deep fear and loathing for a man who saw himself, and all other men, as masters. He thought nothing of maltreating her and assaulting her and believed it his right to rape her. Which he had done. Twice.

In the end she had broken out of the shackles.

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