Four nights;
it took four nights for the nightmares to arrive.
A living tragedy, transformed;
a memory repeated in the quiet of the night.

Awaking with a scream.
Heart pounding, eyes glistening,
I think of him.

Him.
The thief of innocence.
A master of violation,
ever present in my mind.
He who stole a construct that
I cannot ever hope to reclaim.

On this fourth night,
I lay, petrified.
This room, this godforsaken room,
and this godforsaken bed,
are both a crime scene.

On this fourth night,
I am only fourteen.
Living with the notion,
that to him,
“No”
had not been an acceptable answer.

(d.d.b)