What They Think of Me
Only CHpater
Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
Her hand swung, punching the mirror. I watched, distraught as I was not the one doing this. I was an outsider, looking in at a whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
The names they called her. The names they called me. The names they called us. We were hated, because we tried to find an escape from the lives we were forced to live.
When they wanted us, we were beautiful, sexy, people. That was the best part. While they fucked us, it was as if we were actually human to them.
When they didn't, we were dirt. Pieces of dirt that they tried again and again and again to brush away but couldn't. We were permanently stuck in their world and they couldn't get rid of us. So instead they renamed us, ignored us, treated their pets better than us and used us. They renamed us Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
They said I should have respect for myself, that if I did, they would. Lies. They told me lies. Not one of them knew the meaning of respect. They claimed what they had no right to. Was respect calling me a Whore?
Slut?
Bitch in heat?
I tried, I truly had tried to fix the mistake I had made but I couldn't. When I tried to change they would push me back and ask what had happened to me. They asked me when I'd become a prude. One asked me, "When did you become just another frigid bitch?"
They wouldn't allow to me to push my mistake away, just as I would not be allowed to return the blood now spilling out of my hand. The blood that now flowed onto my Mother's snow-white carpet.
Maybe that would make her notice. Maybe now she would notice how much I needed a mom and not just a mother. Maybe my Father would notice how much I needed to be His Little Girl again. How I need to Mitchie again, instead of Michelle.
Maybes never became realities for me, no matter how much they hoped they would. My parents would not notice. Neither of them had noticed me become a Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
So why would they notice me bleeding all over mother's snow-white carpet? Maybe they'd notice that the carpet was ruined, but not me. They'd never noticed the fact that I'd been ruined for the last three years. They wouldn't now.
I allowed a single tear to slide freely down my cheek as we- No! I closed my eyes, attempting to block out the image of my own blood escaping thru the gaps that now marred my previously perfect skin.
Although my skin was perfect, I was not. My skin didn't matter as I was still branded as a Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
No one notices the real me. The girl that existed before that decided to forsake me. Before they decided that I was good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love.
Before they decided I was unworthy of equality. Before they decided that I was made for their pleasure, not to enjoy life. Before I made one mistake that changed my life forever, the one that made them decide that I was a Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
Drip.
Drip.
Splat.
I watched as my blood, the blood that my heart had made, raced to escape my body. Memories flashed before my eyes, as they always did when I contemplated the reason for my isolation.
Memories of family excursions. My parents taking me to see Peter Pan, Treasure Island and other Disney tales. While other little girls had loved the Heroes, I'd loved the bad guys, the bandits, pirates and thieves. I'd liked a man who was bad - even at age six. I'd fallen in love with Captain Hook and while others had wanted to live in Neverland, I'd wanted to live in a ship.
Those who were once my friends had told the others this long ago and they tormented me with it.
"On a board a ship, it ain't just the rum that's shared between the men!"
They'd mock, yet another thing that helped them justify in their eyes, the fact that I was a Whore. A slut and a Bitch in heat.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
Her hand swung, punching the mirror. I watched, distraught as I was not the one doing this. I was an outsider, looking in at a whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
The names they called her. The names they called me. The names they called us. We were hated, because we tried to find an escape from the lives we were forced to live.
When they wanted us, we were beautiful, sexy, people. That was the best part. While they fucked us, it was as if we were actually human to them.
When they didn't, we were dirt. Pieces of dirt that they tried again and again and again to brush away but couldn't. We were permanently stuck in their world and they couldn't get rid of us. So instead they renamed us, ignored us, treated their pets better than us and used us. They renamed us Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
They said I should have respect for myself, that if I did, they would. Lies. They told me lies. Not one of them knew the meaning of respect. They claimed what they had no right to. Was respect calling me a Whore?
Slut?
Bitch in heat?
I tried, I truly had tried to fix the mistake I had made but I couldn't. When I tried to change they would push me back and ask what had happened to me. They asked me when I'd become a prude. One asked me, "When did you become just another frigid bitch?"
They wouldn't allow to me to push my mistake away, just as I would not be allowed to return the blood now spilling out of my hand. The blood that now flowed onto my Mother's snow-white carpet.
Maybe that would make her notice. Maybe now she would notice how much I needed a mom and not just a mother. Maybe my Father would notice how much I needed to be His Little Girl again. How I need to Mitchie again, instead of Michelle.
Maybes never became realities for me, no matter how much they hoped they would. My parents would not notice. Neither of them had noticed me become a Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
So why would they notice me bleeding all over mother's snow-white carpet? Maybe they'd notice that the carpet was ruined, but not me. They'd never noticed the fact that I'd been ruined for the last three years. They wouldn't now.
I allowed a single tear to slide freely down my cheek as we- No! I closed my eyes, attempting to block out the image of my own blood escaping thru the gaps that now marred my previously perfect skin.
Although my skin was perfect, I was not. My skin didn't matter as I was still branded as a Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
No one notices the real me. The girl that existed before that decided to forsake me. Before they decided that I was good enough to fuck, but not good enough to love.
Before they decided I was unworthy of equality. Before they decided that I was made for their pleasure, not to enjoy life. Before I made one mistake that changed my life forever, the one that made them decide that I was a Whore.
Slut.
Bitch in heat.
Drip.
Drip.
Splat.
I watched as my blood, the blood that my heart had made, raced to escape my body. Memories flashed before my eyes, as they always did when I contemplated the reason for my isolation.
Memories of family excursions. My parents taking me to see Peter Pan, Treasure Island and other Disney tales. While other little girls had loved the Heroes, I'd loved the bad guys, the bandits, pirates and thieves. I'd liked a man who was bad - even at age six. I'd fallen in love with Captain Hook and while others had wanted to live in Neverland, I'd wanted to live in a ship.
Those who were once my friends had told the others this long ago and they tormented me with it.
"On a board a ship, it ain't just the rum that's shared between the men!"
They'd mock, yet another thing that helped them justify in their eyes, the fact that I was a Whore. A slut and a Bitch in heat.