Do You Know The Muffin Man?

Chapter One

Do You Know The Muffin Man?

Taking a deep breath, I scowled at my reflection staring back at me as tears rolled down my cheeks. The high of the emotions were passing from my body in a slow draw; the realization of my anger induced action setting in as I reached up and tenderly touched the end of my now shoulder length brown hair. Biting my bottom lip, I curled my fingers around the ends, and felt tears growing in the corner of my eyes, threatening to slide down my face and follow the trail of the tears before.

My hair was previously down to my belly button; I had taken the scissors to it in a blinded haste and cut more than twelve inches off. I had loved everything about my hair, I spent five years growing it out to the perfect length and there wasn't one thing that I didn't love about it. My tears were probably pretty petty in many eyes; a material attachment to something that could grow back in a few years if I choose to, but it wasn't really the hair I was crying over. I only wish it was that simple.

I never once thought my hair would become my weakness, I never foresaw anything like this happening, but the moment it was used against me, I couldn't bear to have it anymore. I wouldn't allow myself to have a weakness to other human beings, even if it was just my hair.

I shook with fear as my mind flew backwards in time, recollecting each moment as if it was seconds ago rather than hours. My stomach twisted, and I felt tears breaking from the tear ducts, rolling down my cheeks. Swallowing back the bad taste in my mouth, I hunched forward as a cry slipped through my lips.

Knowing what was going to happen, I had mere seconds to step to the side, placing myself in front of the toilet before I was curled over the seat, my stomach reacting for what seemed like the hundredth time since I came upstairs. There wasn't much to give, but the gagging was enough to have more tears pouring from my eyes.

My body wasn't quite sure how to react to everything, quite frankly my mind didn't either. When the horrid gagging ceased, I lifted myself slowly and washed my hands, running a wet washcloth across my face, my eyes fighting to remain open, my body begging for rest.

Turning from the mirror, I stumbled out of the bathroom for the first time since it happened and went straight into my bedroom. Pulling my clothes from my body until I was in nothing but my underwear and bra, I threw back the blankets and climbed under. Curling in a tight ball, I wrapped my arms around myself securely as if my arms would protect me from anything that aimed to maim.

"It's going to be okay," I whispered softly under my breath, begging myself to believe my own words as I squeezed my eyes together and I took a deep breath, doing my best to calm fluttering heart, the organ beating wildly in my chest, pushing it's limit.

Laying there, I let the tears continue to fall. It was quite possible that in my nineteen years of living, I haven't cried this many tears combined, the tears just wouldn't stop, I had no control over them any longer.

When exhausting finally took over, and darkness stole my body, I drifted into a horrid movie reel of the days earlier events; my mind torturously replaying his callused hands touching my body, sliding under my clothes despite my firm demands for him to stop; his wet repulsing lips pressing against my skin, and my futile attempt to get away, only to be stopped when his hands caught hold of my hair, pulling me backwards with strength that had me falling to the floor; the sound of my underwear ripping from my body, and the unimaginable pain that spread throughout my entire body as he took my treasured innocence from me without as much as a care in the world.

Waking with a cold sweat, I flew out of my bed, kicking my legs wildly, my arms flailing as the nights dreams felt so real, like it was happening all over again. With a painful sob, I ran into the bathroom and hunched over the toilet again, gagging over the thought of the horrid man and what he did to me.