Hundreds

Lips connected in every way.
Truth in every spoken word.
Comfortableness in every shared presence.
Stability with every glance.
Chills with every touch.
Love,
With everything.

But that won't stop this.

__

Sometimes I forget how bad it was. Sometimes all I can think about is how bad I am now. And that's a good thing, because just focussing on how bad I am now saves me from also having to deal with how bad it used to be.

He raped me.

Hundreds of times.

He knew I didn't want it. He knew I was terrified. He knew I couldn't fight back. He knew I couldn't say no--I wasn't allowed to say no. He knew he had control over my body, so he exploited it to the full extent.

Hundreds.
Of.
Times.

In my own bed.
In the shower.
In the car.
In his bed.
On the couch.
Anywhere.

I cried a lot. While he was raping me. I was sobbing. It hurt, a lot. Not only the sexual part of it hurt but he would physically hold me down, or throw me around, or pull my hair, or hit me, or even scream. Multiple times he wanted me up against the wall and he would press my head so hard into the wall I couldn't breathe. With every thrust my head would hit the wall and it would start to bleed. He saw the blood and it didn't stop him. The night after prom he made me take a shower with him, forced me to perform anal sex (which, by the way, is also rape), and then proceeded to finger me so hard he popped my cherry. He forced me to give anal sex four times that night, and made me bleed more and more and more. I couldn't sleep all night, I felt sick to my stomach.
I spent the next day crying in my bed, not only because of how much physical pain I was in but also because I somehow believed I couldn't live without him.
And that was even before the rape started.

Hundreds of times.

He would do it three times in one night, about four or five times a week.
That's twelve to fifteen rapes in one week.

Hundreds.

He wouldn't say goodbye when he left. I sobbed before, during, and after.

Every time.
Hundreds,
of times.

People who are raped once by their lover are scarred for life.
And he raped me hundreds of times.

Now what? I'm too scared.

He won't get out of my head. He won't leave me alone. To this day he comes into my mind and rapes me,
every night.

Hundreds,
hundreds,
hundreds more.

-Beaskie