Memoirs of a Teen: The Untold Story
A Short Break
Hello again. I see you are still reading my story. Yeah, you know the ones. Yeah, the one about my sad little life. Let me help you get up to date.
Last time we met, I was still nine years old. Now I am just over eleven years of age. It have been a bit over a year since my last encounter with the man that changed my life forever. I don't know how, but I have managed to escape his torturous hands for this long.
Let me not fool you. This is not the end to my story. Oh, this is still only the beginning.
After a short break, everythign started up again.
I'm now a bit over the age of eleven. Once more, I'm at my godmother's house. Just like when it all began. He isn't here yet, thank God. My nanny is next door, talking with her mother-in-law. And I'm at her house, doing her dishes to help her clean up the place.
Gosh, so many dishes. Such a tiny sink. This was going to take a while. The back door opened and I thought nothing of it. Just my nanny, right? Ha, wrong!
I scrubbed a pot that had some dried up sauce in it. It was spaghetti. Or was is a four cheese Alfredo? Crap. It was black now, so whatever. Anyways, I scrubbed at the hardened mystery sauce.
I felt a hand come around my front, grabbing my breasts. I gasped as it grasped. I knew that feeling. I knew it all so well. And I would know that feeling for years to come.
I dropped the sponge in the sink as he squeezed my chest. No. Not again. Please no. I don't want to go through this again. I felt his eager member against my back as I pulled away from him.
I ran from the house, going outside and running to seek refuge with my aunt. I sat there, shaking with fear. Yet when asked, I gave the reply that I was simply cold.
I should have said something then and there. I should have. But I didn't. I was scared. Very scared.
There was a short break between my touches, and there always will be. A short pause of nightmares. Where the small flames of hope try to burn brighter until they get smothered by grasping hands once more.
There was a simple short break of just over a year before he touched again. A short break in my life of lies.
Last time we met, I was still nine years old. Now I am just over eleven years of age. It have been a bit over a year since my last encounter with the man that changed my life forever. I don't know how, but I have managed to escape his torturous hands for this long.
Let me not fool you. This is not the end to my story. Oh, this is still only the beginning.
After a short break, everythign started up again.
I'm now a bit over the age of eleven. Once more, I'm at my godmother's house. Just like when it all began. He isn't here yet, thank God. My nanny is next door, talking with her mother-in-law. And I'm at her house, doing her dishes to help her clean up the place.
Gosh, so many dishes. Such a tiny sink. This was going to take a while. The back door opened and I thought nothing of it. Just my nanny, right? Ha, wrong!
I scrubbed a pot that had some dried up sauce in it. It was spaghetti. Or was is a four cheese Alfredo? Crap. It was black now, so whatever. Anyways, I scrubbed at the hardened mystery sauce.
I felt a hand come around my front, grabbing my breasts. I gasped as it grasped. I knew that feeling. I knew it all so well. And I would know that feeling for years to come.
I dropped the sponge in the sink as he squeezed my chest. No. Not again. Please no. I don't want to go through this again. I felt his eager member against my back as I pulled away from him.
I ran from the house, going outside and running to seek refuge with my aunt. I sat there, shaking with fear. Yet when asked, I gave the reply that I was simply cold.
I should have said something then and there. I should have. But I didn't. I was scared. Very scared.
There was a short break between my touches, and there always will be. A short pause of nightmares. Where the small flames of hope try to burn brighter until they get smothered by grasping hands once more.
There was a simple short break of just over a year before he touched again. A short break in my life of lies.