The Room

The wind blew, it was a hot summer day, the sun shining bright and a small breeze caressed her face, and it hit her like a ton of bricks falling from the sky, the smell of rotten beer sitting in the sun. She froze and traveled unwillingly back in time, the scars reopened like fresh flesh cut to the bone, Deep. She thought she was safe, she locked the door, but it didnt keep him out. HE BROKE THE DOOR LOCK JUST TO GET TO HER. She will never forget the way his eyes looked, crazed, hungry, desperate, and angry. He hit her so hard that she fell to the floor and without hesitation he forced her over the edge of the tub smashing her face on the faucet, blood dripping from her face as if he had opened her skull with a blade. He ripped her panties off like he was opening a gift that belonged to him. He was happy, ecstatic and in complete ecstacy with himself, he was excited to rip her away from herself and take something she would never get back. She was bare, vulnerable and open for him to take like Costco free samples. Unable to fight. She could feel his breath hot on the back of her neck. She was broken and bruised. His scruffy facial hair scraping her skin like razor blades as he leaned in to whisper into her ear disgusting vulgar words to help him reach his climax. She could hear his voice clear and rusty equivalent to sandpaper scraping her ear drums "It will be over quickly if you dont move" "You feel better than I imagined", She could smell his disgusting odor of sweat, old whiskey, brute, and musty beer. He was dripping his sweat on her back like raindrops before the storm opened in the sky. She could feel the trauma as if it was still happening. His thrust breaking her innocence, in and out on repeat. Every stroke taking her breath, sending shock waves of pain to her heart and stomach, Stretching her open. She was a child. Pure, innocent, lively, happy, until he took her. His voice peircing her ears like a blade "Scream and I'll slit your throat" "be a good girl" he says. The pleasure in his moaning and grunting blurred with her crying and begging for it to end, made music she never wanted to hear again, like a record being scratched, or nails on a chalkboard playing a lullaby of fear and pain. PLEADING WITH HIM TO STOP. BEGGING FOR HER BODY TO BE RELEASED. He kept on, taking her body and soul with every single moment he was inside her. She could feel his tongue on her ears and neck, wet flesh degrading her body. Was this what love felt like? She asked herself a million questions. If this was love she never wanted to feel it again. Did she deserve this? Was she bad? Was she asking for it, Did she wear her pants to tight, was she inviting him to her body? Did she do this to herself? Would anyone believe her. He wrapped his calloused hand around her throat and squeezed and for a moment she couldn't breathe, she hoped for death, because death would be better than this man heavy on top of her small childish body. How could she live again after this? She could see the colors of the room, a blur of pale pink like faded pepto bismol and an aweful yellow that looked stained like smoker's teeth, water damaged floor tile that didnt match one another and a rusty faucet with her blood still dripping from it, she could see her reflection in the one shiney piece left, all she could think was who in the hell lives like this why didnt they ever clean this room. She was weak and pathetic. Heart pounding, racing, she prayed for help, anyone please to save her. Some one to take him away from her, but nobody was listening, she lost her faith in god that day, pain in every single inch of her body, electric waves. She lay helpless, alone, and scared for her life. As fast as it flashed through her head it was over, "clean yourself up bitch, hope it was as good for you as it was for me" he said. She attempted to stand but the pain was to much, he threw a dirty wash rag at her and walked proudly out of the room at his newest accomplishment. She tried to regain what was left of her life and finally stood and looked into the mirror over the dirty sink, she saw the blood she wet the rag and began to wipe her virginity off of her legs and thighs, her pants and womanhood covered in his poisonous venom. Dripping from her was all of her soul bleeding onto the floor. She stared at her self in the mirror, How would she explain this, what would she say? She pulled her panties off and threw them in the trash, and pulled her pants up over her bruised thighs. She wiped the blood from her face and looked at her future scars in the mirror. "YOUR DISGUSTING" she told herself. She was still crying tears mixed with blood and snot dripping down her chin. She wanted to die. But she decided to keep living instead unsure if that was the right choice. She was afraid to open the door of the room, was he coming back? Was he waiting out there for her, was she safe yet? She would never feel safe again. Snapping back into reality tears burning her face like the memory she had wanted to forget. She never knew that walking down a random street could rip open a wound buried so deep. She wiped her tears and kept walking burying the memory once more. One moment changed her forever. One smell brought it all back. Even so, She kept walking. She survived. Again.