Every time..

Every damn time, when I think about it, I must always cry. That is the only way I can cope with it. Every memory I have about that night. Every memory is sealed in my brain, sealed in my blood.

When he came into my room, that was when I knew I couldn’t stop him. He moved slowly and gently, like a poisonous snake. The beast crawled into the bed, moving from my feet, upwards. My legs, my stomach, my chest, neck, and head, were all now controlled by him. So what else could I do? Fight him? No, he held my hands tight to his.

He kissed me. Oh how crazy! Who in this world kisses his prey before killing? You don’t see lions kissing zebras. So why did he have to kiss me? Leave a mark? Saying, “This one’s mine”? That is horrible, but what followed next was worse. The way he touched me, the way I had to touch him. If I really had a say in this I promise you I would’ve never permitted this.

I must say. I must really admit, that the only way I could keep myself from killing him, was the thought that soon it would be over. How foolish of me! It never was over, it never is. Now I must walk the streets of a filthy town, wearing filthy clothes and having that terrible thought that I. I! of all the other preys in this world, I had to be the one. The one who got taken by him, my own son.

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