Forever Running

I lay there, feeling cheap as he sunk into me. Over and Over. Rutting like a crazed animal. It was painful and I didn't understand how a man could do that. I didn't understand it at all. He was defiling all that stood for femininity. He'd told me he loved me all my life and now look at us. He was killing me from the inside out. Like a disease. He was hurting me.

I thought back to earlier, and I wondered what I'd done or said to make him do this to me. My train of thought was interrupted by a particularly painful blow to my face. He was yelling at me to play an active role in my own defilement. As if I would help along my degradation - the degradation of womankind. I hated him.

I grew up with him, dealt with his ever-disciplinary hand and his fits of rage. He could himself up right good when he was drunk. Needing no other reason than the fact that I was there. Always claiming that my parents had forced him to do this. That if it hadn't been for my voluptuous curves on my body, he never would have done this to me.

He claimed that my dark blue eyes were beguiling. That my pale skin and raven colored hair were unnatural. That my personality was alluring. He claimed that each one of these things was my fault.Like I had complete and utter control.

What did he know? Nothing. Absolutely nothing. About me. About the rest of my family. About anything. He pretended to get close to me. Pretended to be my shoulder to cry on while now he freely admitted how much he'd hated my 'constant whining' at six years of age.

My name is Victoria Hastings. I am sixteen years old and being raped by my father's brother - my uncle. The man is an alcoholic, drug-addict, and an abuser. This is my story.