It was so long ago, but as soon as the dreams
or flashbacks enter; it's her reality once again.
Dropping to the floor, she begins to cry silently
at first...until she begins to scream at the walls again.
Huddled against the bath floor, she no longer felt
the comfort or protection of the hot air nor the
warm water that beaded her body behind the curtain.
Crawling into the fetal position in her bed, she covers both
palms against her mouth as she cries and screams silently.
His hands are back under her waistband; caressing her skin
with his rough hands. She begins to shake as she feels his
breathing on her neck as if she was there in bed with him again.
The shower is no longer comforting but reminds her how
vulnerable she is. As she curses and pleas for whys and hows;
another flashback hits her. The pool is where he grabbed her,
touching her mound and even thrusting himself against her;
but she can't do anything; she's still. Thrashing in her bed,
she struggles to contain the sobs that emit as she sits up in her bed.
Next, she's in the classroom where who she thought was her friend
slipped a hand down her shorts in the darkroom, but she pushes him
back and tears slip out of her eyes as she moves away from him.
As she stands in her towel staring at her bloodshot eyes in the mirror,
she almost snarls at herself; "But you let it happen; it's your fault."
As if her reflection was another person, she breaks into fits of cries again,
"I didn't want it and they did an-"
She opens her eyes to wake up to her room; alone.
She didn't feel anything but disgust as she got up, heading
straight to the bathroom for another shower.
As she starts it and begins to strip, she stares at herself in the mirror,
frowning in disgust at her body that people seemed to want to take
advantage of; even when she wasn't of age. She was barely even a woman.
As she climbs into the shower, she sits in the floor with her face
in her hands with the question that she's been asking since she was barely eleven: Why? Why? Why?! Why?! Why! Why Me!
Night terrors and a small form of PTSD plagues her life of male hands that have grabbed her