There are many things I've been meaning to ask you.
Don't worry, this won't take long.
So, how's life in prison?
How long has it been? Seven? Eight years?
You can't remember?
That's funny because I still do.
That night of shattered childhood memories.
I'm curious.
What did I taste like that night?
How did I sound like to you? Screaming. Begging.
As you hit me with your fists, how did my skin feel like?
How did you see me that night?
Did my cries turn you on?
As you ripped off my clothes, my dignity,
my virginity, my childhood?
Did it make you a better man as you
beat down a helpless 14-year old?
Did it make you a better man
as you push me against the wall
and smother me with kisses.
I can still remember how your lips
pricked my soul.
The soul of a 14-year old,
slowly fading.
Did it make you a better man
as you push my face to the floor -
your hand pulling my hair
as if mocking me to ask
help from the heavens?
I can still feel all the
tension on my neck.
My voice, strangled.
My tears, comforting my cheeks
as your other hand tortured my chest.
At that moment, I wondered,
did you feel my heartbeat?
Did you feel its beat of
trauma and indefinite agony?
Did you feel how my body
became weak from the
countless beating?
Whenever I relive those moments,
I can still feel your every blow on my gut.
On my face, over and over and over,
again and again and again.
On my heart, over and over and over,
again and again and again.
On my soul, over and over and over,
again and again and again.
I can still hear its sound, over and over and over,
again and again and again.
Pounding every last bit of me.
Breaking me into broken little pieces.
My mind, restless.
Thinking
Praying.
Begging for the moment to stop.
It didn't.
You then dragged me like a rag doll
into the darkness of the alley.
Barenaked, I asked pity from the moon.
To shed some light.
It didn't.
Blood was dripping everywhere.
My vision, a blur.
Numbness occurred.
This was the moment when I begged for time to stop.
Eyes closed.
My heartbeat, in tune with the sound
of seconds passing by.
And in the darkness of my thoughts, I waited for answers
to whisper sweet words.
They didn't.
Instead, you whispered,
"No one's here"
I tried to fight, but I was nothing
as your boots kissed my cheeks,
my back, my ribs, my fragile teenage body -
flipping me to the other side.
I wish it did.
It didn't.
I can still feel your weight on my body.
Your sweat.
The scent of alcohol and nicotine
of lust and drugs,
rubbing themselves onto me.
I really did hope that
time would stop
and save me.
It didn't.
You flipped me over,
spread my legs
and took my
innocent body from behind.
Your thrusts burned inside of me.
And at that moment
I really thought they had burned
every last hope I had left.
They didn't.
You didn't.
There are many things I've been meaning to ask you.
And there are two more things I've got to say to you.
I'm here and I,
I survived.
About the Author
 |
Zuela
Weird obsession for balloons and with life being in slow motion
Twitter |
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