Sadness of one cut.
It happened again.
Every night I go to my bedroom, get ready for bed and lay down under the untouched icy covers.
Shaking;
In fear that He might come again, Tonight.
I lay, just lay there fearing to close my eyes, in fear that if I let my eye lids touch or to stray from the door, for not even a Milli-second that I might miss Hiss honorable entrance into my sanctuary of a bedroom.
I am terrified of what he might do to me, again.
While waiting for Him I think about how many years I have had to deal with Him, with this abuse.
"I am just a fuckin' Teenager!"
I have so many times wished to scream at him, but I knew if I ever did, there would only be more abuse.
Breaking from my thoughts, a creek of the stairs travels to my ear.
He's coming again.
Shaking.
Unable to do anything I just curl up into a ball, as if a small animal in the presents of a predator, just staring at the door with eyes so scared you could believe that they were staring at death, waiting for his figure to appear.
There he is; I see him, walking towards my door way, as if not to have one care in this world.
A sick smile on his lips, eyes so kind that anyone would love.
Shivers.
In the few seconds he took to me from the door, no words were spoken. Just sick chuckles came from the beast as he came closer.
From there my life goes into Hell, my mind stops itself. My body, violated once again by this mans tainted hands, shuts down completely.
But I could still feel the coldness of his icy fingers trailing along my chest, forcing goosebumps along his trail.
I feel like screaming, but I do not, afraid that if I make a mere peep that he will do something to me that would really scar me even more than he already has.
It feels like hours have passed, him touching there, creasing my skin here, and all I wish is for my death. Anyway to be away from him, anyway to escape his grossing grasp.
I hate the way his touch just makes me want to run out of my skin, to burn it everywhere his hands have touched.
How can a man, who is so respected get so low and get pleasure from something this disgusting. A man of his stature; who would ever guess that he could become this type of guy in the darkness of his own home with no one around.
No one would ever guess.
Too bad things like this always happen; all over the world. Not just girls get sexually abused, boys too. And not just men abuse children and teenagers women too.
Five thousand Teenagers under the age of 16 each year get sexually abused and only 90 percent of the abusers get away wit it. while only a small 10 percent actually get convicted.
It really is a sad thing; Sad for this one cut of Society.
Every night I go to my bedroom, get ready for bed and lay down under the untouched icy covers.
Shaking;
In fear that He might come again, Tonight.
I lay, just lay there fearing to close my eyes, in fear that if I let my eye lids touch or to stray from the door, for not even a Milli-second that I might miss Hiss honorable entrance into my sanctuary of a bedroom.
I am terrified of what he might do to me, again.
While waiting for Him I think about how many years I have had to deal with Him, with this abuse.
"I am just a fuckin' Teenager!"
I have so many times wished to scream at him, but I knew if I ever did, there would only be more abuse.
Breaking from my thoughts, a creek of the stairs travels to my ear.
He's coming again.
Shaking.
Unable to do anything I just curl up into a ball, as if a small animal in the presents of a predator, just staring at the door with eyes so scared you could believe that they were staring at death, waiting for his figure to appear.
There he is; I see him, walking towards my door way, as if not to have one care in this world.
A sick smile on his lips, eyes so kind that anyone would love.
Shivers.
In the few seconds he took to me from the door, no words were spoken. Just sick chuckles came from the beast as he came closer.
From there my life goes into Hell, my mind stops itself. My body, violated once again by this mans tainted hands, shuts down completely.
But I could still feel the coldness of his icy fingers trailing along my chest, forcing goosebumps along his trail.
I feel like screaming, but I do not, afraid that if I make a mere peep that he will do something to me that would really scar me even more than he already has.
It feels like hours have passed, him touching there, creasing my skin here, and all I wish is for my death. Anyway to be away from him, anyway to escape his grossing grasp.
I hate the way his touch just makes me want to run out of my skin, to burn it everywhere his hands have touched.
How can a man, who is so respected get so low and get pleasure from something this disgusting. A man of his stature; who would ever guess that he could become this type of guy in the darkness of his own home with no one around.
No one would ever guess.
Too bad things like this always happen; all over the world. Not just girls get sexually abused, boys too. And not just men abuse children and teenagers women too.
Five thousand Teenagers under the age of 16 each year get sexually abused and only 90 percent of the abusers get away wit it. while only a small 10 percent actually get convicted.
It really is a sad thing; Sad for this one cut of Society.