I was only seven. I still stay awake every night, trapped in the same nightmare. I remember your bloodshot eyes, filled with drunken lust and ugly passion. I still hear my horrified screams and desperate pleas as they fell on deaf ears, silenced by your hushes and repeated grunts. I remember you walking away with every shred of my childish innocence. That was when I learnt that true pain was beyond the physical. Yes, my body ached and my thighs bled, but my soul was torn to pieces.
I lived for so many years like the shell of a person that I became. I was shiny and bright on the outside but dead and empty on the inside, fighting an endless battle with hate and depression. Every day I would stare at the mirror with disgust and taste the bitterness I felt towards myself. Most people have monsters under their bed, mine was present at every family meeting. My heart would stop every time you walked through the door and my fingers would tremble whenever my mother said “Won’t you greet your uncle?”
Now, two decades later, I sit back and wonder, what if it never happened? What if he never dragged me to the backyard and stripped my dreams away with my clothes? How alive would I be? How many sincere laughs and love stories would I have shared? How many dreams would I have chased?
Dear you, how grave was my sin to have been punished that way? My heart still aches and my mind remains lost. I wish I could erase this memory like a speck of dust blown away by the wind, but this curse I have to bear. Now that we’re oceans apart and I am protected by the distance, my personal bodyguard, all I pray is to never see you again. Because if I do, I fear that I would lose my soul once more.
From the dark,