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H a r r i e t
Pulsar
- Joined
- Jan 26, 2009
- Location
- Your most hated fairytale.
** everything in this is fictional.
- My breathing was shallow and between my legs felt like it was on fire. Hands on my shoulders held me down but even if they didn't I wouldn't fight. The hands, so big they could crush my little skull if they so wished. They slide down my swollen chest, flicking and pinching nub, down to my stomach and to where my ripped panties hang on for dear life. He didn't rip them every time. To my thighs the hands go pulling them apart so far I think my pubic bone is about to snap, just like the wish bone people pull out of the turkey on Thanksgiving.
It just keeps going. Again and again... and then I hear You should've never lived. The trees around us are black. My surroundings start to fade. So does my innocence. He's taking it right now. Between my legs feels hotter. Something sticky, something liquid... it runs down my thighs and to the dry leaves below us. The earthworms wiggle against my skin much the way his fingers felt slimy when he dragged me down. I cry for my mother but he only laughs. My top lays tossed without care just a few inches from my head.
Messy hair all fanned out around my head, picking up the dirt and the leaves. Little rocks are cutting my back side as he moves back and forth. Fast, slow, fast, slow. Either way, it hurts but he doesn't care. It doesn't hurt for him. The way he bits on his bottom lip and his nostrils flare show his pleasure. His eye lids hiding the pale blue my mom adores so much. She doesn't know. She'll never know.
I toss my head back trying to slide away but his hands hold me tighter, pulling me up against him. It never stops. It's like he can go on for years. Luckily, I am wrong. A new stickiness joins what already trails down my legs. A fluid I will come to know really well in my life. I will touch it. I will taste it. And I will let it enter my body over and over because of what he has done to me. He has made me cheap and desperate.
He has been the first man I ever laid with. He has been the man that found a six sixteen old girl sexy and took advantage of her dying mother. In my ear he will whisper not to tell a soul or he will make mother's suffering into a thing of the past. My ragged clothes fall against my fragile body. Hitting all the spots he's just abused and bruised in all the ways no one should ever touch a girl.
The men after him will be almost as bad. One will run me over with his car because I wanted to have a child that wouldn't endure the pains I did. Another will beat me in my sleep because I wasn't awake when he came home. Another will shoot me in the chest and then confess to being my uncle. And another will have sex with me until it becomes serious and sick his girlfriend on me to abort the baby. Those were only some of the few good candidates I have had and yet I am addicted to these men. Maybe I am punishing myself... maybe I deserve it. Maybe I even deserved the red headed man waiting at the bottom of the slide.
Nineteen wasn't so hot either. The red headed man was gone, I was broken already. He'd done what he came to do and there was no taking it back. I wasn't a little girl anymore. He'd done all he could do to my little body. Marking it and staining it so that when he was gone I needed the abuse. I wasn't meant to love or be loved, I was meant to be fucked. To lay on my back.
So here I was at nineteen with a police officer grunting over me. Going I love you, with the whir of the fan above him. I stared at those blades, they looked ready to fall apart, but he said the department was on a budget. They'd never come down and cut me. Either no one noticed or cared that an officer was fucking an emotion wreck on his desk. He was left in an isolated area anyway. Something about too many complaints. I wonder what for.
At some point all his I love you's sunk in and I started to believe it. I wanted him to love me, but I am unlovable. For a night a man might adore me, but when things become serious he pulls out. He regrets riding it raw. And he'll slam his car into me. I'll fly over the vehicle and swear I see an angel but it's only me looking down at myself. Maybe I had died in that moment, but why wasn't I lucky enough to stay dead? Maybe Daddy was right when he said You should've never lived.
- My breathing was shallow and between my legs felt like it was on fire. Hands on my shoulders held me down but even if they didn't I wouldn't fight. The hands, so big they could crush my little skull if they so wished. They slide down my swollen chest, flicking and pinching nub, down to my stomach and to where my ripped panties hang on for dear life. He didn't rip them every time. To my thighs the hands go pulling them apart so far I think my pubic bone is about to snap, just like the wish bone people pull out of the turkey on Thanksgiving.
