I'd say this is potenitally very, very triggering....
No one was there. I heard the door open but no one was there. Maybe I didnít really hear the door open. I opened the door to see if they were outside. No one. I looked around in my house, apprehensively, to see if they came in. No one. My sister asks me what is wrong, so I lie and say nothing. She knows. I think she knows. Sheís smart.
I went back to my room to continue staring at my math homework. I hate math. I hate math class more. School is worse now that we are back from the holidays. Some jerks in school think it is funny to call me names because I canít do anything but stare while keeping my anger inside. The teachers watch, but donít say anything. I canít hurt them like I want to. My day is ruined. I just canít concentrate on homework so I stop trying to do math.
I hear something in the kitchen. Maybe I should cook something for my sister. I shouldnít have to cook for my sister. My dad is just in rough times, it doesnít hurt me to help out. I hear heavy footsteps. That doesnít sound like my sister, I think. I start getting scared. I canít breathe. Who could be here? I lock my room door. My God am I stupid. Just some footsteps. Dad is probably home. I hate myself. I really need to stop doing things like that. Just footsteps.
I go to see if my dad has brought fast food or if he has company with him. No one in the kitchen. Am I hearing things? I might be completely crazy. I wouldnít mind being locked up away from school in a mental institute.
Thereís a noise coming from the living room. A glass. Dad probably got himself a drink and is watching T.V. Maybe he is in a talking mood. The living room light is on. I rush in the living room to greet my dad but my dad isnít there. Itís not my dad. Itís my neighbor. I canít move. My eyes water and I get a bad taste in my mouth. I keep myself from running because that doesnít work. I want to throw something but that isnít nice. I just stand there.
He smiles and moves toward me. He knows Iím afraid. He mutters greetings to me but I canít hear any words. My fear has come true. I canít believe that I was so afraid of this and it is coming true. I canít think. Iím panicking and I donítí know what to do. He asks me a question and I donít answer. Heís starting to get impatient. I look towards the kitchen and he grabs my arm. It hurts. He knows he has strength. I mutter ďlet goĒ like a coward that is trying to stand up to nothing.
I donít feel anything at first, but I taste blood. My lip burns. That was stupid. You donít stand up. Thatís not nice. He mutters apologies and lets go. He says, ďLeave if you want.Ē I move slowly towards my room like I really had a choice of places to go to. He follows, slower, with his glass of alcohol that he stole from the cabinet. My dad will kill me.
Iím in my room. I try to turn around and trip on something on my floor. Iím lying on my floor facing him. He shuts the door. He tells me to get on the bed. I donít move. He tells me to relax, that we are just going to talk. I obey.
Iím on the bed. He asks me if Iím always on the computer. I donít answer. He moves around some. He looks at my stuff. I want him to leave. He asks me if I really liked some book he picked up off the floor. I donít answer. He is done being patient. He finishes his drink. He moves toward me on the bed. What do I do? I move to as far at the end of the bed as possible. I feel embarrassed. He pulls me towards him. We are facing each other because he is on top of me, looking at me. He chokes my neck. I canít breathe. He lets go. Iím in tears.
I know what happens next because it always happens. He used to say that he wanted me to feel okay before he acted, but he stopped. I donít answer him anymore. He likes to be rough. I canít stop it. I donít yell anymore. I donít fight back because that hurts more.
It burns. Like cutting open a healing scab with a dull kitchen knife. I start crying. I try to think about something else. I feel so cold. Iím shaking all over. His hands hurt. Heís so strong. I go where he wants me to. Heís too heavy. He tries to make it hurt. I hear his voice ask if it feels good enough for me. He chokes me. Ö.
He leaves quickly. Iím lying on my bed crying. I wait until I hear the front door open and close and then I cry out. I canít move. Iím still shaking.
I lock my bedroom door and fall down in front of it. I crunch into a ball. I just want to die. I canít get the bad thoughts out of my mind. Stupid jerks from today. I donít have anything good to fill my mind with. I lay there for a long time. My sister wants help fixing something and knocks on my door. I donít answer. I just lay there for a long time.
I hear someone talking. Manís voice. Itís my dad. He knocks on my door. He wants to know why I didnít fix my sister something. I donít answer. He curses and gives up. Itís late. I want something happy. I get onlineÖ..
He came over today. Yesterday. Day before that. Heíll come tomorrow too. And the next day, or so I keep fearing.