Of course

How long was I a victim? Most of my life.  When I was young, the face was different, but the acts, the feelings, and secrets were the same as when I thought I was safe; an adult. By then, I was very well versed in "keeping secrets".  But we must walk before we run, so I will do that; walk you through my past; of course; that makes the most sense:

He was with me all the time; leering, watching, thinking. When his desire and my proximity were too much for his perverted mind, he began to touch.  It burned my skin; hot and greasy.  I was very young and though it made me ill, I was reassured that this was what love was.  It soon became my second best kept secret. My first was hatred.

Love, as I understood it, was made of the sweaty shadows at night that no one should know about.  It was his fingers to his lips when he shushed my protests, burying his face in my hair while every cell and nerve threatened to screech until blood curdled - mine or his- there was no preference.  When he finally stopped the mauling; his grunts and shoves changing to softer, slower, more sickening strokes which were sometimes accompanied by tears of shame, I would wince; loathing his weakness. Worse still, was that I felt obligated to return his touch; to soothe him, understanding, that somehow I had asked for this... type of love. The tears were all his. I had stopped a long time ago.  No one heard me anyway. Tears were useless; just another secret to be kept.

Do I remember when it stopped; the horror, disgust and self loathing? Oh yes. I had to come to terms with some things though. I had to understand what strength it took to make it stop. I had to see that guilt was fleeting when compared to relief, closure, revenge.  And in all kindness to him, no one heard him cry. Ever again.

Somehow, I picked up my life or did I just leave my childhood behind?  Maybe it was someone else's life left lying on the ground, neglected and unwanted, but I dusted it off and tucked it away, beginning again as someone else; this time to be untouched.  Of course, I shoved all those terrified screams and secreted tears; all the ugliness down and away like outgrown clothes crammed into a garbage bag and left in a remote corner of the basement in my mind to be dealt with at a later time.  I was too busy trying on my new life: clean, smart, brave.

I went to school and struggled but succeeded.  I let boys kiss me, but left them unused and unloved.  I often left them sad and crying, wanting me to stay and build  up their (our) lives.  I had no desire or belief that these sentiments were true.  They were manipulations to achieve the ultimate shadowy secret.  They wanted to "love" me.  I ignored those things, easily casting them off, until he sauntered in.

He was lazy, sexy and too confident.  He looked right in to me and when I fought him with my carelessness, he played a victim to which I pitifully related.  I let him in: my head, my bed, my heart.  And there was comfort; release, until I had that greasy feeling.  Oh the nausea would rush up on me like a hot wave as he climbed on top of me and spoke in my hair.  The screaming of that little girl I had once been began again; the screaming of the dead.

He arrogantly mistook my fidgeting and gasps for ecstasy.  My silence was misinterpreted as endearment and fascination.  He never bothered to ask.  When he told me it was good, I nodded. That's what I'd learned to do with that kind of love; nod.  The weakness in my knees was revulsion at the understanding that the dead DO return.  He was my zombie apocalypse. My new untouched dream life, became a nightmare.  My original solution was to simply run away, but then I saw him with someone else.  I understood.  He was devouring hearts and affection instead of brains; my zombie.

I had no choice but to hover in his life allowing him to come close whenever he chose.  I gave him warmth, but never did I truly indulge as I wished.  It was nothing to let him push his way inside my body, like a  hummingbird: tiny, pretty and utterly useless.  I even managed to convince him that I thought it was good ~ like having his doughy body slamming into me while he panted "Like it baby?" was fun.  Of course, I felt that for all his meaningless efforts an "Oh yeah" or a lie to tell him I'd never climaxed so many times were more than generous on my part. I feigned want.  He bought in like a badly dealt hand of poker.  He thought surely he would bluff and win.  The answer was a resounding no.

To play his precocious gambling game, I had to be certain I would win.  So I counted "cards" or women who were not so well-versed in his demented language.  He would use them; back stab, bad mouth and discard. But me? I luckily held the ace.  That last night, he almost folded because I'd let myself come a little unglued; pitching a tantrum and "almost" scene in a restaurant.  He contemplated leaving in a huff. Instead, he had put his fingers to his lips and shushed me gently while his hand caressed my thigh.  "Let's just have a nice evening Baby; all the way through." And to drive the point as well as his intentions home, he jabbed his fingers inside me.  My lips tightened and I smiled from far away.  "Of course." and I giggled almost mad with glee.I took only what I needed from the table.

He was all in.

So he paid quickly, being sure to pinch at my nipples and whisper his lewd wishes in my ear in an attempt to turn me on; set the mood; jack up the stakes.  He rushed me to his car and began to paw, push and shove ~ Passion? Really.

I recall tears-warm with the regret that I had waited so long to expel this tumor of hate. The cut was swift and deep into his flesh. I remember the  look of astonishment and hurt. I had felt that once; the first time? Was that MY face so long ago?   Perhaps.  I truly don't recall now.  Crimson bubbles and the wheeze of his last breaths brought me ecstasy for real; peace. I purred and sat back, eager to be the one to watch this time.  He wiggled and kicked, as I had.  A warmth spread through my body slowly.  I smiled softly, truly.   He clutched his neck and begged me to help.  I held my finger to his lips and shushed him. It was his turn to give in; give up.

I drove his magical shag wagon to the part of town where he was best suited to be found,leaving him pathetically exposed. I swabbed things I had touched with wipes he so conveniently kept in his car and took his personal effects. Then I walked home; glad it wasn't too far. There, I picked a few of my favorite things, shredded what I could; both his and mine and threw the other shit into different local bins, enjoying the smell of trash combining with trash.  It felt clean in my soul.  I began again somewhere else.

I am a stranger here, both to myself and those around me, though I feel a little stronger, more confident in my new home with my new name.  I have made some wonderful friends. They laugh and share their memories with me.  I enjoy making new ones with them.  They trust me with their hearts and friendships. I guard them gladly, fiercely, adding them to my best kept secrets.

Of course.



A little dark, even in my eyes, but I find it haunting, sad and maybe even a little bit positive in the vengeful sense? I don't know if that is what I mean. I'm sure SOMEONE will point it out. ha. Well, I like it regardless. It came quickly and although it's simple, I find it creepy and scary enough to enjoy it; I think because of her constant changing/ running; let alone the impulsivity of her best kept secret. Well that's what I think. Give me a yap when you can and tell me what you think. Thanks for stopping over and spending time with me. I enjoy your company.