I sort of boycotted the physical act of writing for months. I think I was scared of what might spill out. I've been away for quite awhile, but I am finally ready to settle down and write:
In the room I was raped, a bedroom that belonged to me: where it was a supposed safety net, a bosom buddy, where secrets were passed. Instead, here's Ed, in front of me, who has shared so many of my memories, and violated my body in so many ways.
This is what I remember. My lips were wet with blood and spit. He had kissed me brutally, after he had grabbed me from behind and left a bruise on my arm. He said these words: "Jane, my best girl, if you don't scream I won't hurt you." I nodded my head silently. My arms were pinioned and pressed against his belly, and his hot breath was spilling into my ear.
He released my arms. I screamed D's name. Quickly. Abruptly. The struggle began. I had good aim, and whacked him on the cheek, but that didn't deter him. He kneed me in the stomach, so I would fall back onto my bed. "You don't get it, Jane. You are my best girl. Remember?" He gripped my short hair tightly and straddled me. I scrambled for purchase of something, anything. I wanted nothing but out. I made sounds, little noises, they were nothing but soft droplets. They urged him on, they made him righteous and hard. He flipped me around on the bed, and kissed me again, his eyes open and taunting. For a moment, I lost consciousness. When I came to, I knew I was staring into the eyes of my former molester, and now into the eyes of my rapist.
In that single moment, I feel like I signed myself over to him, I was convinced I couldn't fight anymore. He was going to rape me while D was downstairs frying her hair with color. That was it.
I remember him undressing me rapidly, eagerly. I wasn't a virgin, I knew the procedure. He continued kissing my lips like they were newborns, and caressing my body like it was a foal. He pulled me forward by belt, before unbuckling it, so I could feel his hardness. I swallowed my vomit.
"Please," I said. "Please don't Ed."
"You already asked for it."
I watched him unzipped his own pants and let them fall to his ankles. He laid down on top of me, and started humping me, before inserting his penis. I was dry, and I felt the nausea swimming in my stomach. In my brain, I never stopped apologizing. It was serene up there, and there were poems, and wild animals waiting. I tried, as numbness overtook me, to recite one of the poems. I moved my lips, but no sound came out.
He made noises, and rammed his hips in and out, in and out, grunting with each thrust. And then it was over. He came and slumped over me. I laid under him, my heart fluttering wildly. My brain feeding me poetry, new books I wanted to read, Gary, anything. I began to shake again, and he moved off of me like a snake. He looked at me, and bent down to hand me my clothes. He moved aside and stood up, zipping and buttoning his pants. Easily. Like nothing irregular had occurred.
He held my underwear out to me, and I slid them on cautiously. Then he handed me my pants and shirt. I stood up and put them on, almost falling back from lack of balance. I needed to lean on my bed to pull my pants up. I was worried about my face, the bruise would be noticeable by any passerby. I couldn't control that, anymore than I could control the situation.
"D's hair is probably finished now..." I whispered, shoving my shirt over my head, so I didn't have to look at his expression.
He watched me. He laughed. "She probably does need you, my best girl."
"Can I leave now?" I asked.
"Come here, and kiss me goodbye," he intoned. I kissed him. I had no freewill anymore. It left me, and I believed in that.
After, I remember pushing aside what happened, and giggling with D as I rinsed the hair dye from her hair, and watched the fake color whine down the sink. I waved goodbye to the both them, smiling. I shut the door and ran upstairs, fiddled around my bathroom counter, and found my razor. I cut, and cut.
I was aware of nothing but a release. This was the one thing I required. That was all.
In the room I was raped, a bedroom that belonged to me: where it was a supposed safety net, a bosom buddy, where secrets were passed. Instead, here's Ed, in front of me, who has shared so many of my memories, and violated my body in so many ways.
This is what I remember. My lips were wet with blood and spit. He had kissed me brutally, after he had grabbed me from behind and left a bruise on my arm. He said these words: "Jane, my best girl, if you don't scream I won't hurt you." I nodded my head silently. My arms were pinioned and pressed against his belly, and his hot breath was spilling into my ear.
He released my arms. I screamed D's name. Quickly. Abruptly. The struggle began. I had good aim, and whacked him on the cheek, but that didn't deter him. He kneed me in the stomach, so I would fall back onto my bed. "You don't get it, Jane. You are my best girl. Remember?" He gripped my short hair tightly and straddled me. I scrambled for purchase of something, anything. I wanted nothing but out. I made sounds, little noises, they were nothing but soft droplets. They urged him on, they made him righteous and hard. He flipped me around on the bed, and kissed me again, his eyes open and taunting. For a moment, I lost consciousness. When I came to, I knew I was staring into the eyes of my former molester, and now into the eyes of my rapist.
In that single moment, I feel like I signed myself over to him, I was convinced I couldn't fight anymore. He was going to rape me while D was downstairs frying her hair with color. That was it.
I remember him undressing me rapidly, eagerly. I wasn't a virgin, I knew the procedure. He continued kissing my lips like they were newborns, and caressing my body like it was a foal. He pulled me forward by belt, before unbuckling it, so I could feel his hardness. I swallowed my vomit.
"Please," I said. "Please don't Ed."
"You already asked for it."
I watched him unzipped his own pants and let them fall to his ankles. He laid down on top of me, and started humping me, before inserting his penis. I was dry, and I felt the nausea swimming in my stomach. In my brain, I never stopped apologizing. It was serene up there, and there were poems, and wild animals waiting. I tried, as numbness overtook me, to recite one of the poems. I moved my lips, but no sound came out.
He made noises, and rammed his hips in and out, in and out, grunting with each thrust. And then it was over. He came and slumped over me. I laid under him, my heart fluttering wildly. My brain feeding me poetry, new books I wanted to read, Gary, anything. I began to shake again, and he moved off of me like a snake. He looked at me, and bent down to hand me my clothes. He moved aside and stood up, zipping and buttoning his pants. Easily. Like nothing irregular had occurred.
He held my underwear out to me, and I slid them on cautiously. Then he handed me my pants and shirt. I stood up and put them on, almost falling back from lack of balance. I needed to lean on my bed to pull my pants up. I was worried about my face, the bruise would be noticeable by any passerby. I couldn't control that, anymore than I could control the situation.
"D's hair is probably finished now..." I whispered, shoving my shirt over my head, so I didn't have to look at his expression.
He watched me. He laughed. "She probably does need you, my best girl."
"Can I leave now?" I asked.
"Come here, and kiss me goodbye," he intoned. I kissed him. I had no freewill anymore. It left me, and I believed in that.
After, I remember pushing aside what happened, and giggling with D as I rinsed the hair dye from her hair, and watched the fake color whine down the sink. I waved goodbye to the both them, smiling. I shut the door and ran upstairs, fiddled around my bathroom counter, and found my razor. I cut, and cut.
I was aware of nothing but a release. This was the one thing I required. That was all.
This is absolutely heartbreaking honey. I know that nothing I say can make it any better, but I hope that getting it out has helped you to heal and know that I'm always here to listen <3
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