How did I get here, it's dark and humid. My skin felt sticky, my hands trembled as I touched my stomach, then lower. My core felt sore, I felt my pelvic area throbbing. I screamed until my vocal cords were sore, I screamed while my tears stained my face. A sense of nausea came crashing down. I had been taken apart, torn, broken.
He came to me at night. Saying everything would be alright. At first it was small things like rubbing my arms and shoulders, then eventually he moved his hands a little higher. Until finally he would touch me. First slowly, then he would move inside of me, rotating hands. Saying I was beautiful, amazing, astonishing. Then when he was finished he would get up and leave me alone to the emptiness of my room.
My uncle had his home taken away from him by the bank. He eventually showed up at my dad's front door begging for a place to stay. He promised he would be out of our house within the next couple of days. That never happened.
The following week my dad was diagnosed with Terminal Cancer. The doctor said he had about to weeks left to live.
He lasted a week.
Before he passed away, both my parents decided to let my uncle and his nineteen year old step son, James, stay with us for "support".
I was 12.
The following year I would hear my mom leaving a room in the middle of the night.
That room belonged to my uncle. I never said anything.
James was 20. He would work the night shift at the mini Mart down the block. He came home smelling of whisky and scotch.
I was 13 years old the first time James walked into my room.
He sat at the edge of my bed. His hands rubbing my legs. He stared at me that night.
Eventually, James became my step brother. The night of the wedding he came into my room to celebrate.
I kicked, scratched, shoved but he was stone.
Then I felt it.
Inside of me.
Tearing at my insides.
My body froze underneath his.
He would whisper in my ear, groan twice, and then pull out.
He would finish like that every time.
He broke me.
He was my breaking.
