If it was my life or letting him rape-
These were thoughts I had as a kid
Often contemplating suicide.
My life in danger. When it turned into survival.
There had to be a purpose
She said grieving the death of my father.
Asking myself why she was trying to convince me with such certain dark eyes.
Years pass by still trapped to emotional memories. There are things you forget and things you hold to your core. Your truth. Things you fight with vengeance to save your own life.
Realizing they would stigmatize her as whore before they ever consider rape.
No longer a child. Just echoing the consequences of childhood trauma. Trying to stop the patterns; to move past it and every turn another mental blow of trying to run away from the pain in reflection of the truth of existence.