Here in this city the constant sparkle of building lights never got old to me. Even though I only saw them as a passerby. The glamour of it was enough for me to have constant day dreams of what life would be like to look down at all the ant sized people from my fancy thousand-dollar-a-night hotel room.
A viceroy in one hand and a beautiful crystal glass filled with sangria clasped in my other. My make believe world of riches could lead most people to think I'm worth something.
I'm not.
I was born and raised in Louisville, Kentucky. I got sick of everyone's shit in my home town so I left on my sixteenth birthday.
Took my 'Sweet Sixteen' money and escaped. My broke down life was left in my past.
And what exactly did I leave behind?
Well, four siblings, all boys. A mainly absent mom and a stepdad that made alcohol his lover. He wasn't violent, but the sexual misconduct felt like a punch to the teeth.
He'd get drunk when my mom went off to work in the afternoons and he would come bother me. Touch my breasts, give me hickies and what I found even more disturbing was that sometimes he wouldn't be sexual with me at all.
He would just ask me to lay next to him and he'd wrap his arms around me. His breathe reeked of alcohol and it sent shivers down my spine every time he exhaled.
The night before my birthday my mom was gone as usual and the house was filled with a particularly unsettling feeling. I felt trapped, cornered.
All my brothers were out doing various things, causing trouble. But I had just gotten back from a friends house and I walked in on him...
Rick. I innocently opened my room door to him exposed on my bed.
The thought made my stomach curl. Filling me with a nauseating feeling.
As soon as I saw him I quickly shut my eyes but I couldn't move. I was in shock. I heard the sound of my spring mattress, indicating he had gotten up. Moments later and I felt warm hands remove my own from over my eyes.
"Hey, it's okay. I wanna show you something. It's your birthday tomorrow. It will be fun!" He said with enthusiasm in his tone.
I wanted to tell him off. Explain to him that I wasn't a child. I knew what he was doing. Tell him to stop patronizing me.
But I let him place my hand around...it.
I looked away and let it happen like a coward. Like a baby. The very thing I wanted to prove I wasn't. He removed my hand and I thought it was over. It wasn't. He lead me to the bed and laid me down. At this point the tears were like a running faucet.
He peeled off my clothes and I let it happen. I still hate myself for just letting it happen.
He got close to my ear and whispered, "Happy birthday baby girl. Let me give you this..." he trailed off. And soon after I felt a pain between my legs. By now I was pleading with him as he held down my arms.
When he bent down to kiss me I charged my head at him. Causing me a great deal of pain and when I looked up he had stopped. His nose and lip were bleeding.
"You fucking whore! Just like your mom." He spat at me. I was terrified he was going to hit me but to my surprise after his outburst he left. I heard the screen door slam shortly before hearing his truck pull out of the driveway.
I breathed out heavily. I don't know if he was planning on coming back but I wouldn't be there to find out.
I shot up out of bed and into the shower. I cried a lifetime of tears that night. I'm sure I dried out my tear ducts because I haven't cried since.
