I remember it
In bits and pieces.

Here and there I catch a sense of
Foreboding.
Of something coming.
Of knowing that
No matter how much I try
No matter how far I go in life,
This will never leave me.

I have been sexually assaulted.
By two different people
In my life.

I was
Nineteen
When I started dating him.

Nineteen and my
First
Boyfriend.

He has red hair and a
Jaded past.
A bad boy with a
Gap-toothed smile.

I was taught
To save myself.
To not have *** with a man
Until I was married.

He showed me
That there is a lot two can get away with
Before marriage.

I thought he loved me.
He told me so just two short weeks into our relationship.

I believed him
Because I had never done this before.

I thought
he would know, wouldn't he?
I suppose
"I love you too."

From there I found that
Love
Had a funny way of
Proving itself.

It was Easter or Christmas
Or some Christian holiday
When he pulled a blanket over us and
Stuck his hand
Down my pants.

His uncle was in the room.
Engaged in a Vikings football game.
His mom and
Sister and
Aunt and
Cousins
Were making cookies
In the kitchen.

I remember the details of the space
I was violated
In a desperate attempt
To forget
The act.

This happened often.
And openly.
In the backseat of his parents car
As they drove us to their home.

In his sister's retired bedroom as I awoke to him
On top of me.
I thought of the jewelry on her old dresser.
How she chose the ones she cared for
And left the rest behind to be
Forgotten.

Years passed with the memory staying in my mind as though it were a song I chose to memorize.

I met her in a bar.
I had known her.
We had flirted.
She stole kisses all night and proudly proclaimed that
I was "here with her!".

I felt safe.
I knew the crowd.
I took care
Of myself.

After threats of renting a hotel for us
I drove her home.
We were laughing.

She lived with her parents.
In the basement.

The upstairs lights promptly shut off
As she drunkenly stepped inside.

She led me to the basement and I turned as the door slammed shut.
Locking her cat outside.
Begging to come in.

My neck
Hurt for weeks.
That's what happens,
I suppose,
When you're caught by the back of your hair and
Tossed
Across a bed.

My head whipped over the side of the sheets and retracted
As she slapped me across the face.

"I like it rough"
She chimed.
I did not.

Casual pleading
Will only get you so far
When you beg
To be let out of this room.
I envied the cat.

I couldn't stop it so I
Took care
Of myself.

Laying empty,
Broken,
And dry
On her sheets
I dreamed I would be allowed
To go home.

Saliva
Can be a lubricant.
Did you know?
Even if it is ripped from your own
Throat.

******* penetrated my lips,
And then,
So much more.

As I staggered out she tossed words
Like
"****"
"Hot"
And
"I'll text to tomorrow"
At my body.

My body
Does not always feel
Like a safe place.

My body
Bruises and
Bleeds and
Weeps.

My body
Shakes
For weeks.

But I
Am not
My body.

And I
Will take care
Of myself.