Unknown

Locations

17011
United States
40° 13' 32.5848" N, 76° 55' 47.046" W
17011
United States
40° 13' 32.5848" N, 76° 55' 47.046" W
17011
United States
40° 13' 32.5848" N, 76° 55' 47.046" W

People want me to act a certain way out here.

 

They ask me to smile, they ask me to keep my head up, to act as if it never happened, to forgive.

 

My only reaction of course is to obey to the unwilling bones in my body, aching, dragging me to the floor in pursuit of not being able to live without my hatred, without my degrading actions made towards my flesh, without the deep terror I felt for years.

 

Even after the struggle of getting off of that bloody floor, I continued to wade in that pool of pity.

 

The image of him grabbing me and slamming me against the wall with unnecessary force, stains my mind.

 

The sweat, salty, bitter, driving me to tears as the odor constantly reminded me that i couldn’t run.

 

Small, innocent, a child, slowing down her life to endure the hardship of losing her identity to the jaws of the greedy beings she called, “family.”

 

June 26, 2003

 

She begged for me to come over that weekend, I’d go, she’d have a newer way to torment me, destroy my self esteem, and then send me back home with a threat.

 

This was her game, and I was the board, her daughter keeping score.

 

We arrived a little after three in the evening.

 

I got out of the car, grabbed my and my sister’s stuff and walked with my Dad to the door, the black screen that blocked out my screams from years of torment.

 

It opened, her figure standing, a silhouette of my nightmares.

 

Tall, towering, thick, buff, and strong. I couldn’t stand there without my weekly fake smile, to show that I hadn’t told.

 

As soon as the car pulled off, a sharp palm hit my face, sending me to the ground, followed by a leather snap to my back. i couldn’t scream, think, breath. Her voice rang in my ears, “You didn’t smile big enough.”

 

The sun was setting, white, squared crackers, and grape juice, SpongeBob learning how to make a Krabby Patty, she walked in. My Aunt, basically the same as my grandmother, just lighter skinned. “Come over to my house.” Yes! Finally, relief! She’s saving me! She’s saving me!

 

She opened the door to her apartment, clothes everywhere, the sharp smell of mold crawling through the place. Big, caramel, red shirt, black stars shooting into imaginary places around his orbiting sun of a stomach. The beer stained, blue jeans hanging down to his mid-thigh, sweat, filled the room.

 

“I’ll be right back.”

 

The dark room showed only the light from his teeth, the reminder that I wasn’t here alone. his voice crawled down my back, giant hands pulling off my shirt, pants, panties.

 

“You tell anyone, and I’ll kill your family. Your mother, your father, your sister, your friends, everyone.”

 

He pressed his body against mine dragging my breath from my soul, only to be returned, damaged.

 

The bed squeaked pulling me into consciousness, insertion, and pain. my eyes refused to open as his constant breathing invaded my imagination, the drops of sweat falling onto my face, the smell, the beer, the onions, the musty smell creeped from him, to me, leaving me forever stained with his touch. Never to wash away.

 

My innocence stolen, my childhood turning into adulthood, my grandmother, my aunt, a man with no name, all responsible. A man, that shall stay forever unnamed, I wonder, where, he is. What I would do if I ever see him again. Would I kill him? Would I end up in prison like many other women with the same story?


To this day that haunts my dreams every night, the thought of me becoming a statistic as my grandmother wanted. To this day, I glance at my past as a question, and to this day I wonder, what will my next chapter be?

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741