Does Your Lack of Conscience Tell You Everything's Alright?

Jeffery is asleep on the couch. He had his way with me like he wanted. I guess it tired him out. I don't see how. It's not like I fight him anymore. He's broken me and put me back together how he wants. I just lay there. Let him do what he wants. I can't enjoy it. I don't want it.

Maybe Jeffery is just too old. I don't know his age; he never told me. Its not one of those things I should know, according to him. It doesn't matter anyway. Who would ask how old he is? Who would care?

No one.

I have practice today. Though it probably won't be a serious practice. Our team just won a state-wide competition; we'll probably have a party to celebrate.

Those are always fun. There is so much food. Food that I shouldn't be having. Jeffery would beat me if he found out about the parties and all the food I consume. I'm not supposed to eat so much. But I can only last so long without food.

I leave a note for Jeffery, telling him I have practice and that I love him.

I really don't but he likes to hear it. If I don't say it, I'll get hurt. Jeffery is extremely violent when he doesn't get what he wants.

It's cold outside. I guess I should expect that. I have sweatpants and a long sleeve shirt on. Underneath is a sports bra and shorts. It's not like I actually need a bra but I can't practice naked and I can't wear my oversized sweatpants and shirt. Our practice clothes have to be form fitting so out instructor can make sure we're the right weight.

Convincing Jeffery to buy the sports bra was difficult. You Don't Need It he claimed. Only Women Wear Bras And You're Still My Little Girl. He did buy it though, after some persuading in the dressing room.

I don't know why I didn't just get a tank top instead. My bones are clearly visible in a sports bra. So are any wounds that Jeffery gives me.

The members of the team see them. They ask questions. I lie. They don't believe me. I know they don't. I can see it in their eyes. But they don't push. Our instructor pulls me aside often, asks if I'm okay, offers to get my food. I lie to her too.

I'm pretty sure they think my parents are doing this to me. They don't know that my parents would never do this to me. I was their only child, the love of their life. I was their everything.

And then I was taken away.

Away from them.

Away from happiness.

Away from freedom.

And I'll never get to go back to any of it. Not until I die.

I can see the lights of the dance studio from afar. They blare on the street, standing out from the Christmas lights that decorate the stores. August, one of the members of our team, calls this street the "Disney street." It does look like it belongs in a Disney movie.

I wouldn't be here if it was in one though. I don't belong in a Disney fairytale. Everything ends up so perfect in them. My life will never be perfect. There will never be a prince coming to save me.

Unless death counts as a prince.

The bell on the door of the studio rings as I enter, informing everyone that I have arrived.

Not that anyone cares.

Peppermint scent attacks my nose. My stomach grumbles. I haven't eaten today. Jeffery wouldn't let me. He thinks I'm getting too big. The bigger I get, the more womanly I get. He doesn't want a woman. He wants a little girl. He wants control.

He wants fear.

Head down, I walk farther into the waiting area of the studio. I run into someone and go crashing to the ground. A shock of pain runs through me. The other person gasps, jumps to their feet and pulls me to a standing position.

"I'm so sorry," he says.

I look at him. His hair is longer than Jeffery's. He has the adorable bedroom eyes that only younger men have. He's about as tall as Jeffery.

And his eyebrows look like caterpillars.

He looks oddly familiar.