This is my story

Scratches

{WARNING : this could be triggering. Read at your own risk.}

The next morning I woke up, groggy from the weed and the anxiety. I still had no clue what happened the night before but it felt bad, really bad. I went to the bathroom to go pee, as usual. I sat down and the putrid smell of him was still soaked in my skin. I gagged, nearly throwing up. Images of him raping me from behind flooded my mind, I was clouded by confusion. My brain went into some sort of auto-pilot and I took a shower.

I turned the nob of the dimly lit shower and stepped in, not caring what it felt like. The water was near scorching. My toes stung from the shock of the heat. The flashes of last night came again, making me flinch. I took the shampoo and poured a glob of sweet smalling soap into my hand. God, the things I took for granted. I felt so grimy and covered in a layer of gunk I forgot what it felt like to be clean. I plopped the shampoo onto my head and started massaging it into my hair. I didn't feel any cleaner like I usually do when shampooing. I started to scrub with my nails, even though my mom told me to not do it. My scratching and scrubbing became frantic. I rinsed my hair and put my face under the running water. I sat there for a minute in peace, soaking in the sound of running water. Again, the things I took for granted.After what felt like forever, I switched to conditioner and massaged instead of scratching to give my tingling scalp a break.

I wiped my eyes and opened them, looking at my wash rag. I needed this, desperately. I grabbed it, folded it, and ran it under the water. I still and will always like the heavy feeling of a wash rag on me. I squished all the water out and poured body wash on the flattened out rag. I scrubbed it in between my hands to get the suds going. I slapped it onto my right collarbone and part of my chest. The feeling was almost orgasmic. I rubbed and swirled the rag on my skin, not realizing i still felt disgusting. I rubbed over and over, focusing on my shoulders and neck.

For probably the millionth time I scrubbed my shoulder, The sudden realization and need came crashing down on me. Scrub. I applied pressure that wasn't needed. My body flushed pink under the rag as it went along my skin. I started to become hysterical, scratching and scrubbing, leaving marks and causing blood vessels to pop and surface to my skin. I scrubbed my whole entire body, when i was done, i sat on the floor of the shower and let the water run over my face and hair for a while.

I sluggishly reached up and turned the water off. Getting up, I grabbed a towel and wiped down a bit. I turned and faced the full body mirror and opened my towel to reveal my flushed and scratched up body. I was 14, Raped, and addicted to hurting myself.

Let destruction ring