HER

𝙿𝚊𝚛𝚝 𝟹𝟼

♪Bʀᴏᴋᴇɴ ʙʏ ʟᴜɴᴅ♪

Rᴏxʏ

(Tʀɪɢɢᴇʀ ᴡᴀʀɴɪɴɢ)
Fʟᴀsʜʙᴀᴄᴋ

I was 12 and he was like in his 40's. maybe older. He tried to pull my leggings off but I managed to get out of his grip, to escape. To save myself.

I remembered running out of the room and looking around, there was nowhere to hide, there was nowhere to run, no one to tell. There was no point in screaming either. No one would hear.

"You fucking bitch!" He yelled at me, grabbing me back into the room and shutting the door.

I decided to be bold and then ran up to him, started hitting him. I fought and fought but I was just a weak 12 year old.

I stopped and I started to get tired and so he picked me up and threw me down on the bed. He had this evil look in his eyes. It was terrifying. I started to panic, thoughts of all the things he'd do to me crossed my mind. "Don't worry." He caressed my face gently. "I'm not going to hurt you." He lied to me.

But he did hurt me.

His nails were long and his hands were rough. It scraped against my skin like sandpaper as he pulled my panties down.

I remembered telling him to stop but he didn't. He just continued touching me. "Mom said that no one should touch me there. Ever." I tried explaining through my panting but he just continued.

I too continued to fight and beg but I was still just too weak. I'm was only 12!

He held both my arms down and then started pushing... he just started pushing everywhere. There was pressure everywhere. I was hurting. I was bleeding. I was crying but that didn't stop him. He just kept going... going deeper into me. Killing me.

Fʟᴀsʜʙᴀᴄᴋ ᴇɴᴅs

What's it like?

We all wonder. We don't expect to experience it but it crosses our mind, and then it just happens.

We don't ask for it. I didn't ask for it. Nobody asks for these things to happen.

It was painful... the first time it happened. There was blood. Lots of it. It was like being cut open with a blade. I didn't understand back then but now I did.

I was scarred. Permanently.

I spent most of my childhood being sexually assaulted. My parents weren't around, they were each starting and living their new lives. Better lives for themselves. I never blamed them for not being around, I never would.

I stopped crying for papi every night and I stopped asking for mom. I couldn't pressurize her, she was pregnant with Lucy and they were happy in their little house in New York while I was staying with a rapist far away. I suffered everyday but it was okay because even though mom and dad weren't together anymore, at least they were free from me, from a burden.

From a young age I've learned to understand that love dies out. People fall in love, they make rushed decisions, sacrifices, and in that moment sparks seem to fly but after a while things get complicated and if they're not committed enough, they give up. They fall out of love.

I found it funny, that even though we failed at love in the past, we still tried to possess it everyday. Our hearts have been through so much hurt yet we would still try to spread the little love we had left. We know we're going to get damaged again but it's like we don't care, the pain doesn't matter. We just want to have that strong connection. We just want to be loved. Even if it only lasted for that moment.