The Slaughter House

I was at a JV Football game on a Thursday afternoon with the rest of my squad. We were sitting in the stands, there to support JV Cheer. I texted the boy and asked him to come to the school and sit with me. That way, he couldn't accuse me of looking at other guys because he would be there to see for himself that I didn't.

He came to the school but sat on the other side of the field, in the opposing bleachers. I had no idea why. He sat there and stared at me for maybe an hour. I kept standing up and motioning for him to come over and he would shake his head. I texted and called him and he wouldn't reply. The girls on my squad thought it was funny for about a minute, but then realized how strange it was, as did I.

He finally came over, and sat on the bleacher behind me, about four feet to my left. Again, I asked him to come sit closer, and he continuously refused. Eventually he moved to sit behind me, and I would lean back and try to kiss him but he wouldn't let me.

The constant rejection was possibly one of the most painful parts of those 11 months.

Later on, when I was asking him why he was being so weird, he turned it around and blamed it all on me, claiming that I was being a heartless, selfish bitch for not noticing that he was sad and for not holding him or asking him what was wrong.

Every night I would cry. Some nights it was because we were fighting. Others it was because he was putting me down. This was one of the putting me down nights, but it went to a whole new level when I told him I would cut myself because I hated myself so much and thought I deserved it, and he didn't try to stop me.

I cut myself for the first time that night, crying on the phone to him the whole time.
Later that night he came over unannounced and raped me so hard I bled for hours. I was crying the entire time and he wouldn't stop. Just like he wouldn't stop calling me a self-centered whore while he knew I was cutting myself.

People who kill someone spend their life in jail. He did more than kill someone. He did more than kill me. I wish he had killed me, but he would never be that forgiving.
No, he murdered me. He butchered me. He slaughtered me.

I hope he spends the rest of his life in jail.
I hope one day he gets slaughtered too.

-Beaskie