Atelophobia

I can still feel his rough and bony hands touch my body. I can feel his alcohol scented breath hit my skin sending goose bumps on every inch of it. I want to hear myself scream and fight back but I wont and I can't. I can't hear myself scream at the top of my lungs for him to get off of my body. I don't feel myself fight back. I pray to god someone knows I'm in here or someone finds us. I can't stop him and I know it. I know deep down inside there is nothing I can do, there isn't going to be anyone to save me. He is going to take my innocence and I'm fucking terrified. It wasn't always like this. I used to be a good girl, we used to be good girls. We used to be out of the media and public's eye. We didn't know anything about the tabloids or celebrities. We just had to be rebellious and move away from the only place I was comfortable. Now here I am regretting all of it. I finally let out a scream and sit up from my bed. I'm clutching my damp sheets so hard that my knuckles are turning white. Charlie rushes into my room and throws her arms around me. "It's okay, you're fine. He's not going to hurt you anymore. He's not here anymore. You never have to relive that awful night again." She says rocking me back and forth. That's the problem there, isn't it? I relive it every night. I live it every day, I have to hide every scar, every emotional wound he gave me, everything that reminds me of what happened. I have to hide it with this fake smile that everyone knows isn't genuine.