Freshly eighteen. He said everything was wrong with me. I was fearful of his every inch, yet much more fearful to resist.
My voice crumbled. Words to be replaced by mumbles. I was dumb, I was weak. I felt numbed by everything.
Terrified, I cried out- "Help me! Help me!". Scenes in the hallways. Tears streaming down my face. Teachers, students, coworkers, bosses- carry on at normal pace. Nothing to see here.
Reflect, replay. Same story as the first day. My body, taken away before I could be born. I've never felt safe again. Safe was all I was seeking then....
When I ran away, torture followed. Every night, more fear to swallow. The blocking button never worked. He found other ways to work. Other phones from other jerks. I should have turned it off.
My most precious belonging was vandalized. It was this broken body of mine. It used to kick and cry and fight. Now it exists unmoving.
Scars hidden from the surface of my skin. How to guard the scars within- the never-ending question.
The shelter kids will beat me up. Thugs have friends and their friends are thugs. Is it safe to sleep in a car? Google doesn't know the answer.
Freshly nineteen. Doesn't feel like the clock is ticking. If only it would move faster, take me away from these memories..