Struggle

Sex and Secrets

My hands felt weak. Sweaty palms on the lap of my thighs. It felt normal to get hurt like this. But in reality it wasn't normal. I have years of this man torturing me and years of hiding it. Why am i hiding it? Because if I tell anyone I'll be sent to a foster home where kids will bully me for my marks. 

It's not like I don't already have that. I do. But also dad will come back to haunt me if I tell on him. I'm planning when I get to eighteen years old, I'll move out and tell someone. One of my close friends. Maybe they'll help me. 

But that's a long ways away. Planning that far ahead is like shooting a bow and arrow with your eyes closed and being spun so many times you don't know where to go. 

I sat up in my new lilac walled room and sat in silence for a bit. Everytime it happens I take a minute to think about what would my excuse be. Like where was i? Who was I with? What time? 

But those questions would be about the made up excuse. What really happened you ask? The second my father unlocked that door I was fucked. 

Literally. 

He took advantage of me in that car. I couldn't squirm. I couldn't run away. Those feel of his dead skinned skin running across mine made me sick of my stomach.

It's like I'll never get that same skin he touched back. It's like his hands are imprinted in my skin.

I can't scratch it off. I can't cut it off. I wanna go. I wanna go somewhere else where I'm safe and no one can touch me. But where?

I found myself holding in tears. Despite being hurt like this so many times, the pain gets worse and worse each time. I can't cry either. He's got cameras in my room. He hid one in my mirror and then one behind my alarm clock. 

I moved the one behind the alarm clock once and he burned my hand for it. He told me "you can't move it if you can't use your hands"

I'm just lucky he doesn't have any sexual diseases. If he did, no one would even wanna be with me.

Maybe I don't even wanna be in a relationship.

I don't even need to think about Ace anymore. I can't see him again.

I was all the way across the country now. I didn't have his phone number. I can't stalk him because dad thinks any person he sees on my phone is a person I like. So then he scolds me doe supposedly "cheating on him" when he's my own fucking father.

The door creaked open to the old trailer. Dad walked in with an outfit in his hands. He pushed it towards me, into my chest. He had the most nastiest look ever. I took the outfit and laid it out to see what it was. 

He had gotten me a skirt.. 

I'm a man. But I knew why he wanted it. He'd never gotten me a skirt. Maybe he will be nice and let me not wear it?

But who am I kidding. He'll still force me to wear it. I snapped my head back to look at him, seeing the grinch face he had on.

I hesitantly pulled my pants off and put on the skirt, it was black and extremely short. 

As I fixed the tight skirt around my waist and adjusted to the uncomfortable state, I heard a zipper. Slowly turning my head around, I saw his pants undone. When he noticed I had looked at him, he patted his lap.

Immediately I swayed my head no. I didn't wanna do this again. I can't cry I can't cry... Im a man, men don't cry. 

My words didn't help me. I felt a tear truckle down my face and I knew that would set dad off and it did.

He was already frowning at the fact I said no to his request, now I was crying. He was absolutely furious. Grabbing me by the wrist, he took both of his hands and Indian burned me. I can't plead to stop. So I took in the pain.