God Is Women

chapter 1

Author pov

"Please... save me! No—don't come near... please—someone help!"

Rain poured relentlessly, turning the empty road into a river of shadows and despair.

A 24-year-old girl ran barefoot, drenched and trembling. That girl was Ishni.

Behind her, four men chased like wolves on the hunt.

"Catch her, damn it!" one of them barked.

Suddenly, Ishni’s foot slipped. She fell, her palms scraping against the cold, wet asphalt. The laughter of the men echoed through the darkness.

"No... please!" she screamed, her voice raw with desperation.

"Please!"

---

Ishni

I woke up—again. Another nightmare.

Drenched in sweat. But not from fear. From rage.

From revenge.

I stared at the four walls of my cell—walls I now knew better than my own skin.

Two years.

No visits. No family.

Why would they visit me?

I killed my husband.

I sighed deeply.

"Ishu!" came a voice from outside the cell.

I didn’t need to look—I knew who it was.

Preethi.

My best friend. My only family.

The only one who hadn’t given up on me.

She stepped closer to the bars.

"Why do you always come here?" I asked.

Preethi gave a small smile.

"Do you really think pushing me away will work? Ishni, I’m not going anywhere."

"Why are you not fighting back?" Her voice cracked with pain.

"You know you’re not a criminal. Why are you letting them punish you for surviving?"

I laughed—a dry, broken laugh.

"Fight? I already killed my husband. That was the only fight I had left."

"No," Preethi said firmly, eyes shining with emotion.

"You defended yourself. You survived. That doesn’t make you a criminal, it makes you strong. You deserve justice, Ishni."

"Go."

My voice turned cold, distant.

"I don’t want to talk anymore."

She hesitated, hurt flashing across her face, then turned. The click of her heels faded with each step down the hallway—until there was only silence.

Another day began in the prison. The cell remained dimly lit, its iron bars like a cage for lost hope. Shadows danced on the cold stone walls, pressing inward with silent judgment.

Author pov

Suddenly, the main door opened. A figure stepped in, his very presence shifting the air.

Power. Authority. Control.

His tailored suit hugged broad shoulders, every step precise, measured.

Cold blue eyes scanned the room like a predator looking for weakness.

"King, he still hasn’t talked," said Vipul, the man’s loyal right hand.

The man’s lips curled into a dangerous smirk.

Rudra.

"Make him scream," he said.

The tied man was doused in cold water. When that didn’t break him, the rods came out—red hot and merciless. Screams echoed, each more pitiful than the last.

Rudra watched, unmoved.

"Stop," he ordered.

He walked to the man, crouched, and grabbed his chin.

"Speak."

The man trembled, his voice a rasp.

"Pl-please... forgive... I made a mist—"

SLAP!

"I hate mistakes." Rudra’s voice was colder than steel.

"Kill him."

The words fell like a death sentence.