His eyes...
I'll always remember his eyes as long as I live. A beautiful light blue with flecks of gold and a star shape around his pupils, they stared deep into my soul. Those were the eyes of a caring man, the eyes of someone that saved my life, the eyes of the man that gave me hope, and kept me going when all I wanted was to give up.
I felt him take my hand and lead me from the room. That room became normal for me. To think that something like that could become normal is an odd thought. As fucked up as it is though, and a painful, when you see or experience something enough, i guess it becomes the norm. I visited that room at least once or twice a week, where the men fucked me until it hurt to stand, and afterwards Carter would surrender his shirt to cover my exposed body, and the purple bruises that riddles my stomach, arms and just about every other part of me,
The memories haunt me like they were yesterday. The beatings caused me more than just pain, sometimes, it was more than just bruises that spotted my body. The bruises and pain were the easy past. The hard part are nightmares that still haunt me in my sleep...