“It was sunset half past six
while she walked the way with zest.
She was an angel with the crux
gleaming on her breast.

In a gorgeous glittering gown
which shone as white as moon.
Her chuckles dug cheeks so deep
while with friends on gossip heap.

Long on queue with friends
at the church on Easter bliss.
Queue was soon a mass
(then) he did throw it on her face.

She didn't grasp it quick
(that) it was not just for fun.
She made a playful smirk
which inflamed her face with burn.”

This poem abruptly slammed my eyes. I sluggishly gulped saliva with a fear of burns as if I was swigging Acid down the throat. Moisture on my face vaporized instantly, while I was on its last line. I was panicked for an Acid Attack on me.

I was shattered. I was all dry at throat while tears drenched down the eyes. Resuming after a long pause, I started reading all the Acid Attack stories along with the story I was searching for.

There were many stories as such. All these attacks were on a woman or a girl who either stood against the sinner for his crime or for refusing strongly for some atrocity on her.