Completing the Cycle

I look around the room frantically searching for words. Fear courses through my veins and the adrenaline begs me to escape, but how. His piercing gaze is like a hawk hunting down its next prey. The air bristles with tension as he lays a colossal hand on my shoulder. My cocoon of illusion was shattered. I was alone, so terribly alone. It was like the times before when I had been attacked. No one there to help, nor did I have the voice to beg for assistance. Phantom hands are on my shoulders, coarsely gripping my breast, and their Cheshire grins fade into the darkness of the reservoirs of my memories. That was then and that is now. A complete deja vu. His thick accent muddles his words in my head. How to escape? How to escape?

“Come on girlie. You know you want to and trust me you’ll love it. I won’t stop.” 

My response was stuck in my throat and my vocal cords had become concrete. I try to distance myself from this monster and as I back up, the back of my knees hit the edge of the bed. Where to go from here? The chain link fence had been at my back the last time and my eyes had grown wide in terror, just as they were now. His hands are now planted like trees on either side of me, burrowing their roots into the comforter with ease. I crawl up on the bed shaking my head and eyes to the floor. My voice realizes the urgency, but my thoughts are scrambled with mortification.

“How about we don’t.”

My hesitancy decreases the authority and legitimacy in which I deliver my simple line. My voice had quivered and my body shook uncontrollably. I raise my eyes from the regal colored paisley print beneath me and met the bottomless pits that devoured my attention. They burned with rage at my defiance, until they dimmed to flickering white hot hate. I could see that my fate was sealed. He rolls onto the bed from where he was standing and proceeds to crawl my way. How could someone’s intentions be so bad? A nervous chuckle escaped my throat. I was no contest for him physically and I had no strength in my will to demand compliance. I had no clue if I could bellow out load enough to arouse neighbors’ suspicion or if they would even care.

“Oh come on now. Don’t be shy.”

His hand edged up my thigh and I gazed almost helplessly mesmerized by my own weakness. I gently guided his hand back toward my knees, until he slipped them out and was on the button of my jeans before I could process the abrupt progress of the events. Why couldn’t I just outright stop him? I must be deserving of this was my conclusion, based on the frequency of similar events. My pants are being slid off and still not much of a real struggle. In my mind I am even justifying his actions. Maybe he actually wants to give you pleasure. Maybe it won’t be like the past couple times. Maybe you won’t cry when it’s over. Maybe if you just go with it, it won’t hurt as bad. Maybe you’ll be able to walk away from this one day.

“Aww, that’s a good girl.”

I am refusing, but with barely a whisper and my eyes am filling with tears for the inevitable pain to come. Why couldn’t I just be strong? By now, I have trailed into the darkest corner of my mind. You are completely worthless. What did I tell you! I knew that all you would ever amount to is a goddamned whore. how do you like suck dick for a living? Oh wait you do it for fun. Soft whimpers encourage him to shush me and I catch a glimpse of the flames again. Any hope of resistance smolders in the ashes of my self-hatred. I begin to lose grip of what is going on and lose myself in the surrounding objects. My panties are clutched in his fist. 

A paused moment of silence occurs.

I lay sprawled out naked on the bed with my eyes trained on the weight set in the corner of the room. He strips out of his clothes and flings them haphazardly on the floor. I notice the slight rusting on the tiny areas in which the paint was chipped off of the dumbbells. He hovers over me prepared to insert himself dry. I already am wincing with the pain I know is about to come as I watch the border of the room. He lets out a gasp of pleasure and his chiseled body accumulates sweat along the fault lines in his muscles. Searing pain accompanied with a tearing feeling cause me to bite my lip hard enough to draw blood. I stare at the wall as the pain builds. You know you deserve this, you filthy whore. You worthless piece of shit. For roughly fifteen minutes pass as I observe the inner depths of hell located in the brilliant white of the paint on the wall.

“STOP! Oh God, please stop! No more! NO!”

My voice rippled with sobs as I pounded his back with my diminutive fists. A couple minutes pass by with me shoving and punching to no avail. Finally it is over. I gather my clothes and cover myself in shame as Adam and Eve had done. My vary soul was weary. A soft grin and a chuckle lit his face. It had to be some sort of distortion of reality, what part of that was funny. Then I realized that it was a game of cat and mouse. He would catch me and set me free and continue to do so as long as I allowed.

“What was I too much for you?”

I asked him to take me home and the entire way back I stayed out of his reach. I had to break the cycle myself. I had to be strong. No one else would be strong for me. Once I got out of the car and was safely inside my house I called him. I told him that I never wanted to see his pathetic face again. He hung up and called back a week later apologized for being cruel. He wanted to see me again in person to apologize. My strength wasn’t strong enough. I agreed to see him. Maybe I just like the abuse.

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