stories I'll never write

seven.

Warning: this excerpt contains things that may be triggering to some (rape, sexual harrasment, and self hate)

It's been 5 years

but I can still feel it.

I can still feel the shapes he drew into my thighs while trying to calm me down.

I can still feel his warm breath on the back of my neck.

I can still feel the way he slid his hands down my body closing in on its target.

I can still feel the way his breath grew deeper and his body grew stiffer.

I can still feel every movement his hand made.

And it's killing me.

It's tearing me apart to remember what he did.

To remember his iron grip forcing me down.

To remember the way I screamed and begged him to stop.

To remember the tears that gathered in my eyes.

I can still feel every second of it.

It still makes me feels dirty. It still makes me want to tear every inch of skin off.

What you did to me to my body.

And the innocent look you gave your mom when she asked if I was okay. The innocent look you gave me when it was over. It still stays imprinted in my mind

I still remember your smug look when you came back for seconds the very next day.

I still remember it

all of it.

5 years later