His Sunflower

6

He was holding on to me as if he was to let go, I would jump off the cliff behind us. Trying to rack my brain for a solution, there was only one thing I could think about doing which would make him loosen his grip on me enough for me to escape and run back home.

Turning around, I mouthed a quick sorry before brining my knee up and kneeing him down there.

He let out a groan of pain, and before I could let the overwhelming guilt catch up to me, I took the chance to run away.

Without looking back, I sprinted all the way home with only minutes to spare and entered the house only to find out that I wasn't alone.

Sitting on the sofa in the living room was my father and three of his friends, I only recognised one of them, Marvin. Even his name was enough to make me want to throw up and choke on my own vomit.

I was too slow to react and before I could run away, four pairs of eyes turned and looked my way. Marvin raked his dirty eyes up and down my body, making me shake in fear, almost as if I was having a seizure.

His gold tooth shon against the light and contrasted against his rotting blackening teeth. I could smell the alcohol and drugs all the way from where I was standing and I couldn't even begin to imagine how wasted and high the group were.

This wasn't a new scene, it happed twice a week, once if I was very, very lucky. But this time, I had a feeling that this time will be much worse compared to the others. I couldn't tell what it was, but the way my father was looking at me was different, just as intimidating but also as if he was plotting something.

"COME HERE, BITCH!", my father roared.

Trembling, I made my way into the living room and just as I thought the smell couldnt get worse, I was proven wrong.

TW – Sexual abuse / rape

"GET ON THE FLOOR AND FUCKING STRIP!", he yelled, whilst taking a massive swig of the beer he held in his hand.

This was nothing I hadn't already been through, so I knew what to prepare for, although no one could prepare a person for what was about to happen.

I dropped to my knees and squeezed my eyes shut whilst slowly removing my clothes. Keeping my eyes closed, I took deep breaths to try and calm myself down, attempting to block out the presence of the nasty men in the room.

All of a sudden, I could feel a pair of rough hands touching my body. I wanted to cry but I knew that it would only spur them on further. I tried to be strong, but it was so hard.

I could feel something hard pressing against me and at that point, I wanted to die. Hands were crawling all over me and my skin felt so dirty.

I tried my hardest to block out all the noise but I could continuously hear my father jeering in the background, telling his friends to use me how they want, to give me what I deserve.

The first time this happened, I was so shocked that my father would let other men touch his own daughter, but one look in his stone, cold eyes, I could tell that he was far from a father figure to me and there was no hope that he would ever be.

Now, his comments and actions dont even surprise me. I was used to feeling used. Dirty. Broken.

I screamed out in agonising pain when one of his friends pushed himself into me, with no care for the pain he was inflicting onto me.

The tears were unstoppable now and I hoped that I would black out soon. I could feel their saliva on me, their beer that they had carelessly spat onto me and I could feel their pent-up anger that they used to abuse my body.

Once you've been through this several times, slowly and gradually, you begin to believe what they tell you.

Slut

Bitch

Ungrateful

Disappointment

Disgusting

No one would ever want someone used like you

I could hear heavy footsteps coming towards me and I could recognise that sound in a heartbeat. I knew it was my father and before I could turn my head to see what he was going to do, I felt a sharp needle getting plunged into my arm.

At first, I didn't feel anything. Then after a few seconds, the drug took its effect. He had never used this on me before, but I knew that it wasn't going to be something good.

My body immediately stopped shaking and I thought that my body was shutting down, but I soon realised how wrong I was. I couldn't move my body but I could feel and see what was going on.

I couldn't scream or move; I could just feel them using my body. Filling my body and using it as if I was their personal relieving doll. I could feel their substances and my blood flowing out of my body and it made me sick, but there was nothing for me to throw up. I hadn't eaten in so long that I was surprise my body was even surviving this.

The blood oozing out of me wasn't stopping any of them, as they just took that as an incentive to carry on going.

There was nothing worse than being able to watch and feel what was happening to me and not being able to do anything to try and stop it.

This happened for hours, each of them taking their turn with me, some even going again. My eyes so badly wanted to close but they were forced to stay open, to watch the torture and abuse happen to my body. Internally, I was shouting for them to stop, to tell them how much they were hurting me, to tell them that I didnt consent to this, but my body couldn't move.

I was trapped.

I was stuck in some sort of living nightmare, waiting for an imaginary prince to come and rescue me. But alas, I got it in my head that some people dont get a happily ever after and I'm certainly one of those unlucky people.

It was early hours of the next morning when the drug finally started to lose its effect on me. My father and his friends had fallen unconscious a few hours prior but I wasn't able to move until now.

I somehow managed to crawl downstairs into my room and collapse onto my mattress. I couldn't fight the sleep which was washing over me, so I didn't. Deep, dark, brown eyes were the last thing on my mind before I shut my eyes and sleep overcame me.