So there I was lying on his bed. Dead. My lifeless body crunched up and slumped on his coffee-colored sheets.My insides turning and twisting in agony, screaming “Father Forgive Me “. The aching memories haunting me from every angle. House. Car. Bed. I had to feel something right? I had to feel the energy flow through me like electricity. Why were there no electric sparks as his hand slid up my leg? Nothing. Nothing but the sheer shrill sounds of silence. His hand reached for my jeans button as he ‘passionately’ kissed the corners of my mouth. Still, nothing. Like any teenager, he ravaged my body as he scoured and devoured every delicate spot. Still nothing. With each thrust, I felt the bullet hit me right in the chest.Boom.The first thrust took me by surprise and sent my soul flying down to the bedroom floor. Boom.The second hit me where it hurts most: my heart. It sent me into a dark whirlpool of thoughts then it brought me to the sinking realization that he who lay above me was nothing but a thief. He was the thief who came to steal the one thing that mattered so much to me and my society: my womanhood. I had lost and he had won For Society would never understand and She would always blame me. Me. Me for not seeing through the dark veiled curtains of his character. Me for putting myself in an unfortunate compromising position. Me for seducing him by exercising my right to freedom of dress. Me for just being me and for simply just because I’m a woman.Boom. The third thrust killed me. It tore through the walls of my being and shattered through the valves of my heart. I shall no longer love nor let myself be loved for if he who was meant to protect me, harmed me then where was I safe? And so it was set. I was to never allow myself the right to say NO lest he forces himself on me again. I shall no longer allow myself to dress well lest I make him tempted again. I shall never befriend another man lest he wrongly assumes that my body belongs to him. The thrusts continued for what seemed like an endless continuum until he jerked and rolled over to the side of the bed. His nonchalant smile mocked and stained the value of my womanhood. His sheer arrogance stole my voice and left me frozen on the bed. The silent screams of my pain beat me up for not being able to say a thing.
And so there I was lying on his bed wondering why it had to be me, Wondering what I did to deserve such treatment and wondering why I had to live.
The Blooming Narcissus 