Status: A work in progress for years and years and years ... etc
Headfirst for Halos
Same Old Shit, Different Day
Everyday was the same. Shit. Hell. Whatever you want to call it. The same routine, over and over. Wake up, get dressed, put on a brave face for the parents and then rush to school. Billie Joe catching up when i turned the corner. Billie Joe who then proceeded to beat the shit outta me most days. After that part of the day was over, it was time to go face Brad.
He was constantly cuddling or kissing me in school. And i had to play along with it. I had never forgotten the gleam of light the small blade had given off when he first showed it to me. It just looked all the more menacing, like some creepy dude winking at you.
Brad had also kept his promise. He pulled me to the beach every Thursday without fail. Pulled me to the beach to abuse me. To use me. He hadn't raped me yet. I dreaded that thought. His hands touching me made my skin crawl, never mind anything else. But i knew that day was to come.
On the Friday after the Thursday i would always come home with a few bruises extra curtorsy of Billie Joe. He always beat me extra hard on a Friday morning and then after school. Mostly, i suspect, for not showing up the day before.
If only he knew my reasons.
*
Another day in this sick and twisted world. It had been about four weeks since the start of term. Four weeks since Brad had started his torture. Four times he had dragged me to the each to use me.
I woke up and grimaced. Today was Thursday. The day that Brad dragged me off to the beach.
I reluctantly clambered out of bed. The mirror showed up the same face that it had for the past four weeks before that. A grey face. Grey eyes. Grey.
I attempted to brush the knots out of my hair, but ended up with it in a ponytail resting at the back of my head. I dressed in my usual attire and headed down to my mother.
Breakfast was the same as always. My mother being overly cheery and awake while handing out food, and my father reading his paper before going to work. I ate my food and rushed out the door.
"Hey bitch!" Billie Joe sneered in my ear.
My heart was pounding in my chest and my fists gripped the strap of my bag tightly.
"How have your parents been doing lately? Any family outings?"
I whimpered in reply.
He shoved me from behind again making me fall forwards.
His fist made contact with my stomach again and again. He finally shoved me over onto my side and left me lying on the sidewalk, my belongings from my bag scattered around me.
This is what my life had been reduced to.
*
School had finished and Brad was now marching me towards the beach. I was afraid of this newfound hurry and determination. He hadn't said a word so far.
We eventually reached our secluded destination.
Brad threw me to the ground.
His weight shifted onto me, tugging at my clothes, slowly undressing me. He brought his lips to mines. The feeling rotted my stomach. The same as all the other times he had done this. I lay with very little clothing on now, tears stinging at my eyes.
"You'd better keep quiet about this." his face drew up to mines, the same small blade flashed before my eyes. He must have seen the anxious and worried look on my face. He chuckled down at me as he undone the zipper on his trousers.
"Don't worry bitch, you're gonna love this."
He lowered himself onto me, removing the last of my clothing.
My life had hit an all-new low. He had done the thing i feared worst. Taken something that could never, ever be replaced.
Not by anyone.
How the fuck was i going to cope now?
He was constantly cuddling or kissing me in school. And i had to play along with it. I had never forgotten the gleam of light the small blade had given off when he first showed it to me. It just looked all the more menacing, like some creepy dude winking at you.
Brad had also kept his promise. He pulled me to the beach every Thursday without fail. Pulled me to the beach to abuse me. To use me. He hadn't raped me yet. I dreaded that thought. His hands touching me made my skin crawl, never mind anything else. But i knew that day was to come.
On the Friday after the Thursday i would always come home with a few bruises extra curtorsy of Billie Joe. He always beat me extra hard on a Friday morning and then after school. Mostly, i suspect, for not showing up the day before.
If only he knew my reasons.
*
Another day in this sick and twisted world. It had been about four weeks since the start of term. Four weeks since Brad had started his torture. Four times he had dragged me to the each to use me.
I woke up and grimaced. Today was Thursday. The day that Brad dragged me off to the beach.
I reluctantly clambered out of bed. The mirror showed up the same face that it had for the past four weeks before that. A grey face. Grey eyes. Grey.
I attempted to brush the knots out of my hair, but ended up with it in a ponytail resting at the back of my head. I dressed in my usual attire and headed down to my mother.
Breakfast was the same as always. My mother being overly cheery and awake while handing out food, and my father reading his paper before going to work. I ate my food and rushed out the door.
"Hey bitch!" Billie Joe sneered in my ear.
My heart was pounding in my chest and my fists gripped the strap of my bag tightly.
"How have your parents been doing lately? Any family outings?"
I whimpered in reply.
He shoved me from behind again making me fall forwards.
His fist made contact with my stomach again and again. He finally shoved me over onto my side and left me lying on the sidewalk, my belongings from my bag scattered around me.
This is what my life had been reduced to.
*
School had finished and Brad was now marching me towards the beach. I was afraid of this newfound hurry and determination. He hadn't said a word so far.
We eventually reached our secluded destination.
Brad threw me to the ground.
His weight shifted onto me, tugging at my clothes, slowly undressing me. He brought his lips to mines. The feeling rotted my stomach. The same as all the other times he had done this. I lay with very little clothing on now, tears stinging at my eyes.
"You'd better keep quiet about this." his face drew up to mines, the same small blade flashed before my eyes. He must have seen the anxious and worried look on my face. He chuckled down at me as he undone the zipper on his trousers.
"Don't worry bitch, you're gonna love this."
He lowered himself onto me, removing the last of my clothing.
My life had hit an all-new low. He had done the thing i feared worst. Taken something that could never, ever be replaced.
Not by anyone.
How the fuck was i going to cope now?