𝕕𝕚𝕣𝕥𝕪 𝕚𝕞𝕒𝕘𝕚𝕟𝕖𝕤

17. trauma pt. 1,

smut warning.
don't like smut? don't read.

disclaimer: so this story deals with abuse. it isn't like described in detail, nor does it show scenes of abuse. just bruises and the remnants of abuse. i wrote it because lately, i've been dealing with some abuse of my own.

since i was 14, i have been sexually abused. it ended in July of this year after a large family fight and a call to the cops. Our state is pressing charges, and it's being dealt with hopefully. but i wrote this because my abuse has been sexual and "internal" because the man really fucked me up emotionally and mentally. the bruises on this girl from physical abuse represent the internal injuries i obtained from the sexual abuse of my own and how it started to bleed out onto my character & person without me knowing.

I was becoming very withdrawn, isolate and introverted. I was spending 5+ days a week throwing up everything I had in my stomach because of anxiety induced nausea. i had to be hospitalized a few times due to dehydration and other complications. i was turning into a complete opposite version of my outgoing, happy, positive, normal self.

I don't mean to keep explaining but this story represents my wants when i was trapped in the almost 4 years of sexual abuse. i wanted to shake off all of my problems and go drinking and just escape myself, my life, my problems. i was being abused, treated like dirt and manipulated beyond my knowledge. for fucks sake I didn't realize and understand it was abuse until the cops sat down with me and said: "this is abuse. your story and what you said is the definition of manipulation and it's not your fault"

i want to keep ranting, but just, don't judge this stupid story. it's dumb, highly impractical but it's a scene i dreamed of achieving when trapped. dreamed of being someone who wasn't me. some scenes are stupid but don't hate too harshly on it.

anyways. enjoy the story.

I wanted to kick the door open to the bar, but I didn't, settling for shoving it open as I walked in. All eyes were instantly on me, eyeing me down as I stepped in. My appearance wasn't one that belonged in a grunge bar filled with bikers and men twice my age. I looked like I belonged in Hollywood, walking on some man's arm down a red carpet. Technically I did live that life. No need for the details right now, that's the life I'm trying to escape for the moment.

I stood in that bar in the stupid dress I was forced to wear tonight. My hair was done, makeup was done, everything was done and that's what's so out of place. A woman, dressed in $5,000 clothing, needing a good drink to end the night. "I don't think you should be in this part of town, little miss." A biker spat at me, wrapping an arm around a greasy woman.

My head cocked and I rolled my eyes at him. "Fuck off, yeah?" I said. My voice was like daggers, shooting through him with intensity. He tried to stand taller but I ultimately won, being the first to step up. I narrowed my eyes at him and pointed a finger to his chest. "Don't fuck with me and hell won't break loose." I could have killed him with the deadly look being sent his way. He eye'd me up and down, a scruff look on his face.

"I don't like your attitude. I don't like you but I will make an exception, if-" He raised his voice and turned towards the bartender, waving two fingers at him. The young, male bartender looked slightly intimidated as he grabbed a bottle from the shelf and turned to walk it over to where this man and I were standing.

I was unimpressed, more agitated as I watched him bring over what I assumed was alcohol. My arms crossed over my chest as I drug my eyes back to the biker in front of me. All eyes of the bar was now on us, everyone quiet to see the show. The biker took the bottle out of the bartenders hand, who shot me a look of pity before turning to walk away, while the biker took the glass his liquor was in and poured it out. He replaced his contents with the liquid in the bottle.