In a drunken stupor, I fall down on my comforter
Baby blue sky covered in fluffy clouds of cotton.
I kick off my shoes, faded pink Chuck Taylors
And make clumsy work of my shirt buttons.
I slip an over sized shirt over my head, Bart Simpson,
And pull it straight over my bra and panties, past my knees.
Now in the dark, on my bed, I hear the door creak open.
I turn to see your silhouette, and I hear the door behind you locking.
I sat up, before you lunged on top of me, and smacked me in the face.
I tried to push you off, but a little girl is nothing against a man.
Fear pinned me down with your arms, the look in your eye was crazed.
I yelled out as you punched me again, before stifling my breath with your hand.
I felt your fingers probe underneath my shirt, rough and groping.
The straps tore at my flesh as you ripped my bra apart.
I tried to push your hand off my face, I was having trouble breathing
But when you took your hand off and I gasped for air, it fell back against my cheek hard
I stopped trying to push you away, tears streaming, afraid you’d hit me again.
I bucked when your course fingers pinched, it only seemed to excite you more.
I cringed as you raked your nails deep down my stomach digging in.
You stopped at the top of my panties before yanking them till they tore.
Panic sliced through me as I felt you unclasping your jeans, understanding swept me.
I knew then what you intended to do and my blood ran cold at the thought.
You took your hand off of my mouth and threatened to kill me if I screamed
But I yelled anyway begging for help, preying that you would be caught.
I was silenced by a stinging blow that sent me hard against the head board.
Too disoriented by it to yell again before you were done taking off my t shirt.
Through blurry eyes and mind I felt your eager hands pillage and explore.
I was smacked again for screaming at how badly your fingers inside me hurt.
You showed no mercy as I screamed in pain against the palm of your hand.
You only continued to probe and play, talking dirty to me, making me talk back.
Through bloodied lips and wrenching pain I was abused by this man
He made me say unmentionable things about him, while he cruelly laughed.
I felt his fingers bruising my flesh, tearing me till I bled onto him.
He made me taste it for him, I thought this would be the night I died.
Panic seized me anew when he settled between my thighs and pressed in.
A pain like none of his blows seized me, as he pinned me where I lye
I began to fight him again, digging my own nails into his shoulders.
It didn’t seem to anger him anymore as he pushed sending fire through me.
He let me scream now, and the bed banged the wall, but nobody heard.
All I could think about was my mother in the next room, oblivious to my screams.
He pounded his member deep inside me as I gasped and begged him to stop
I called him by his name, and still, his hands grabbed hard as he continued to thrust.
Some of the pain subsided as he took me, I must have slowly slipped into shock.
I felt his hot release inside of me, as I lye under this man I once thought I could trust.
Spent and dripping sweat, he fell down against me, crushing the breath from my lungs.
I felt his lips suckle my neck, as he leaned off to knead my breast.
I lay limp as he kissed me, I could still taste vodka on his tongue.
I lay there being fondled by my mother’s 28 year old house guest.
He hardened again against my thigh, while he continued exploring my body
He murmured empty words to me before flipping me over onto my stomach.
I tried to get up and crawl away but he pushed my head down from behind me.
I screamed against the mattress while he took me, preying for it to go by quick.
It was dawn before he left me, aching and soiled down to my bones.
I curled up onto the mattress after he told me no one would ever believe me.
I was stunned that this could happen to me in my own home.
I thought of my mother sleeping in such close vicinity.
She must have left and I didn’t hear her, I thought. I didn’t want to face the fact
That she had been there, steps away while I begged and pleaded for rescue.
But as I painfully left my bed to prove to myself that she wasn’t there to stop the attack,
I stepped out into the hallway and heard her snoring, the door left open to her room.
Passed out on her own bed, left as vulnerable as I had been left, she was untouched.
While I was riddled with bruises and blood, scars inside that would never heal.
I ran to her shaking her awake to tell her, wanting to be consoled so much.
She looked at me, still drunk, as if wondering how she should feel.
Didn’t she see the blood and bruises that were surely on my face?
Proof of my innocence stolen dried against my inner thighs?
My blood ran cold as she told me to go scrub that shit off
That she was disgusted and disappointed by my lies.
I tried to convince her, through tears of frustration, I could never make this up.
She sat up just far enough to slap me and send me to the floor.
How dare I lie about someone that has helped us with so much!
She accused me of coming onto him, and called me a dirty whore.
Stunned I went into the bathroom, and turned the hot water on.
I gasped as it burned my flesh, and I let it sear him off of me.
I scrubbed my already tender flesh until the bar of soap was gone.
I stood beneath the stream crying until cold water ran over me.
His words rang clear in my head. No one would ever believe it.
As I stripped my bloodied sheets from the bed and took them to the grill.
On our balcony, I doused them in starter fluid, and went back for my blanket.
I watched the flames lick and dance, and pretended this wasn’t real.
Hours later he woke up. I couldn’t look at him without feeling everything he’d done.
I cringed when he brushed past me in the kitchen and his hand lingered on my hip.
I told you, he said, I could hear the arrogant smile he wore, as he said I’d been fun.
I tried to shove him away from me, but he paralyzed me with his grip.
If you don’t let this go, he said, I’ll kill you the next time.
Tears brimmed as I realized he meant what he said.
I was at the mercy of my mother’s roommate, as I cried
I wondered if it might be a better experience, death.
Of course, in the end, I wasn’t brave enough to kill myself
So I went to bed every night expecting the worst.
Childs thoughts, thinking I would surely be going to hell.
She accepted him, her life, as her personal curse.