A book that I am starting to write. at first i wanted it to be a short story, but now I am trying to extend it to a book. Its about rape and how it affects a person who has gone through it. Trying to make the reader feel like they are in the mind of the victim. So here it is. Hope it makes you think.

Broken


I try not to scream as I washed away the blood and the dirty feeling. I never asked for this. I am too young to have to deal with this. I told him no. I didnâ??t want it. But he did it, and kept on doing it even though I was crying. He laughed while he was hurting me. What kind of person does that?

The water that was warm to start with is now turning cold, but the sting of it only makes me feel more alive. I donâ??t want to sleep, sleeping would bring dreams, which would bring fear. I am alone. My parents are asleep, but I am not going to wake them up, because they wouldnâ??t do anything. They arenâ??t there for me in that way. My brothers are asleep too, and I donâ??t want to put this burden on either of them.

I feel like all the soap and all the water in the world cannot clean me. I am dirty. I feel like I will never be clean again. I know that I am bloody, but I am too afraid to look down there to see where it is coming from. Finally, when the water is bitterly cold and I am shivering, I stop the water. I stand in the shower for several minutes, getting the nerve to leave these walls. But I do it, and wrap a towel around my shivering form. I stand there, looking at myself in the mirror. I am bruised, and my lip is swollen. He hit me. If only all he did was hit me. My eyes look dead, and my hair hangs there, wet and cold. I put on my loosest clothing, and brush my hair quickly and then bolt through the hallway and close the door of my room like someone is chasing me. Maybe someone is. I scan my room, check the closet and under the bed. Who knows what could be in here? This used to be the place that I felt the safest. Now I am terrified. He didnâ??t do it here, but itâ??s a dark place that hardly anyone comes in, and who knows who could hide here.

I flop down on the bed and look at the clock. Itâ??s 3:20. I have to go to work tomorrow. I am so terrified. What if he finds me at work? What if he comes in and I have to serve him? The thought of ever seeing him again makes me cry. The tears that have been held in since it happened come pouring out. I want to be held by my mommy, and have my friends hug me. But no, no one can know. Who could love me after what I have done? This is something that I am keeping inside. No one but me and God will know. And him.