"Love"

He reminded me of home.
"Too bad you only get to come home once a week."
Tight leashes and never trusting words.
No more friends without breasts and no more secrets to myself.
Forcing my hand and crushing me with pressure.
"Don't worry, you'll get better with practice."
I was so young.

In the years to pass, I would question myself.
Did it really happen? Did I dream it all?
Was it my fault? Could I have stopped it?
It doesn't matter now, but it could have.

I could know by now that I should treasure my body.
But I don't.
I could know that the label of 'mistress' isn't something to accept.
But I don't.
I could know how many times a man should prove himself to you before you submit.
But I don't.
I could know the difference between a male doctor's hands and a stranger's around my throat.
But I don't.

"Don't worry, you'll get better with practice."