My Own Two Feet

Later Haters Official Entry

The First Day

It started with nothing

"Hey. Babe."

I shrugged it off.

 It didn't matter

"In your dreams."

I kept walking

The Second Day

"Hey. Babe."

A nudge

This time, I ignored him

The Third Day

"When are we gonna go out?"

"Never."

Keep walking

He grabs my wrist

"When are we gonna go out?"

"We aren't."

He walks away

The Fourth Day

"Why'd you say no?"

I don't answer

I keep walking

"Why'd you say no?" 

He sounds angry

I try to leave

He blocks me

I pull away

This time he lets me go

The Fifth Day

I walk down the hallway

Already planning how to avoid him

I am too slow

He stops me

This time he isn't alone

"Guys. This is my babe." He says

They laugh

I shrink into my corner

Why won't they leave me alone?

The bell rings

I'm late

That means that they are too

Good

"I...I'm late." I stutter.

They turn and walk away

I cry

The Sixth Day

I see him coming

I know that I can't get away

I look down

I wait for it

"Hey, babe." 

His hand snakes around my waist

I bite back a sob

"You are mine."

I want to sink. 

Sink into the floor

Never resurface

It continues for two months

It gets worse and worse and worse

I want to die

Until something changes

I am standing there

Waiting for him to do it 

He stands next to me

Pulling me next to him

I can't breathe

I can feel the pressure of his arms

Holding me there

Keeping me stuck

Until I see someone. 

A girl.

"Let her go."

"No. She is mine. Right babe?"

I shake my head

"No."

The bing of a video starting

"If you don't let her go, I will show this to a teacher. We'll see what they think." She says

Then.

He lets me go

I take in a huge breath

I feel her hug me

I am safe

"We girls have to look out for each other."

We not his "babe"

We are not his "object"

We are not his conquest

We are ourselves, no one owns us.

Sexual assault is never okay. This poem is a dramatized version of a real-life story. I have a very close friend who dealt with a boy who constantly treated her as a possession. She tried to break away from the boy, but he kept on at it. She didn't know what to do, and it became too much. This poem is for anyone who was ever mistreated, teased, assaulted, groped etc. We have all been there, and we are here for you. My readers and I stand with you because you are never alone. 

This entry isn't just for a competition, it's for you. It's my way of spreading a message of support to you and anyone like you, who has been, or is in a bad place and needs support.

-Sunday