The World Is a Wasteland, and I, My Own Misery

Kill My Past

I remember the time my cousin raped me, and the time the man I felt so strong for did the same.  My cousin was in his twenties.  I remember the two of us sitting on my brother's bed, playing videogames.  Mom and dad were out and I was stuck watching my little sister. 

I remember that day so vividly, it makes my skin crawl.  When I remember, my stomach turns and knots to the point I cannot bear to breathe.  I feel gross, like I did something wrong.  But I didn't do anything wrong.  All I did was fight back and lost.

You know you lose when you struggle but have no will to struggle anymore.  They make you vulnerable, lifeless.  You cry and cry in agony, trying to push them off, but what use does it do?  You give up because you have no more will.  And, after, you want to kill yourself. 

You want to kill yourself so quickly.  Why do it?  Because you are useless.  The whole situation makes you feel useless.  If you cannot save yourself, why bother breathing?  You're already dead. 

I was worried he'd get to my sister, but he didn't.  I was an option to him; an only option indeed.  I was all he wanted to ruin.  He wanted me to hurt, but why?  Why hurt someone who has already felt so much grief, so much pain?  It didn't matter how I felt.  It only mattered the sensation it gave him to make me so fucked up.  After all, I was now more fucked up than before.

A week went on as if nothing happened, and that continued.  I never opened up.  I was distant from the man I was with, a man I loved so deeply.  That man, he was the worst thing yet to follow.

I thought so highly of him, and I felt so strong.  Turns out, I was wrong.  I was so terribly wrong.  The funny thing is, I ignored all the warning signs.  I ignored every single one from his ex girlfriend to random girls I had no knowledge of.  They all said the same thing.  "He's an abuser", "Manipulator", "Cheater".  Beneath all the bad, I thought I saw good.

Good isn't what you think it is.  You think you can change someone or hope for them to change, whether they say they have or you assume to see it.  But, no one ever changes.  He was the same man he was before.  He took advantage of me every single day.  He'd grip my knee in church when I denied to get down on my knees in a closet there. 

I denied having sex with him because of the things that happened.  I wanted to tell him, but who knows what he would have done to him or even me.  All he wanted from me was my body.  He wasn't in it for love, and it took me that day to realize it. 

We were at my grandparent's house.  At that time my grandpa was still alive.  I remember playing pool with my boyfriend.  It was simple and a few kisses here and there.  But he wanted more. 

I remember the way he pinned me under that pool table and had his way with me.  I remember crying and trying to push him off.  He held my arms down.  I tried screaming but couldn't.  All I did was cry.  Every moment he thrusted in me, I felt more pain.  I saw more memories.  I felt disgusting. 

Soon, he was done and gripped my hair.  I felt strands rip from my scalp.  He stood in front of me and threw me down, still gripping my hair.  He forced me onto him.  I had no will.  I had no way to escape as much as I tried.  I kept my mouth closed, but with his other hand he pried it open.  It was done, and I was ready to slit my throat.