The perspective of a rape victim
I still remember the dark dirty floor
of the toy shed in the backyard.
The pain as every piece of clothing I had on
was getting torn off in fast motions.
The hand covering my
mouth as I screamed for someone to help me.
The help never came.
As I screamed with the sweaty hand over my mouth
I was only six years old
The pain was something I'd never felt before,
it wasn't a cut nor a scrape.
This pain would never go away or heal.
Then as if time stood still
I lay there thinking what my parents would think
when I told them what had happened.
I tried so hard to get myself to safety,
but I was weak, every move I made
felt like the world was crashing down on me.
When really it was a fourteen year old boy crushing me
as he forced his way into my innocence.
Taking away every purity I had
and leaving me with pain and suffering.
At that moment I prayed that I would die.
For to live a life with this pain and wound that would never heal was
As I stopped screaming I thought I had died.
The pain was still there but I felt a light shine on me.
As I looked up I realized the torture was over, he had fled
the toy shed and went back into his house.
I lay there naked in my own blood trying to figure out why this all
happened, and why it had happened to me.