Fresh painted
were the nails
scratching the pavement

She screamed

The rag which gagged
her mouth
reeked of kerosene
she felt skin breaking
scraping against pavement
cold and wet

She screamed

Calloused hands gripped
and groped her ******* tight
Twisting like screws into wood
All the air left her lungs

Trembling, shaking
he whispered "just take it" and
"you probably won't make it"

She was defeated
she couldn't scream

******, bruised and broken

And though she made it
Her hands could never
touch pavement-
again
© 2020 Christina Jackson