He would come in every night. Wasn’t he tired of me? Wasn’t he tired? During the day he acted like he hated me. My mom would just sit there while he said I was worthless, how I never did anything around the house, how lucky I was that he was supporting us. When I’d dress up, wear make-up, or go out he’d glare.
“Where are you going looking like that?”
“Who you trying to look pretty for?”
“You look like a cheap whore.”
I’d lay in my room, crying, staring in the mirror at my face, with my swollen dark eyes, my pouty full lips, my long black hair, my body. I hated my body. It beckoned him. I know, because he’d whisper it was my fault as he rammed into me. Holding my throat as he said, “you’re a fucking waste with a body like this. A fucking waste.” The waste of the body was firm, petite, and supple. He’d grip it firmly in his large hands till it bruised and felt on the brink of breaking.
I once tried locking more door, and the next day, he beat my mom. She was yelling, saying she hadn’t done anything, and he said, “I know.”
I left my door unlocked.
I’m sure she knew. Knew what he was doing to me. She never looked at me, never spoke to me. Just sat there in front of the TV until it was time for dinner.
School and sports was my only escape.
I’d wake up early, take the bus, go to school, go to soccer, go to ballet on the weekends, anything to keep my out of that house. But then I’d have to go home. I’d eat dinner, do my homework, go lay in bed, and wait.
He’d stretch my legs apart and sometimes tie them to the frame. I think it’s the only reason he let me continue ballet.
Sometimes I would face him and simply turn away, but most of the time I never had to. He’d lay on top of me and fuck me like a dog.
I thought I would surely die every time he entered my ass. Shoving himself fully into me, my frame shaking from the exertion of his thrusts. Hard past pants would escape me, he’d fill my insides with his seed and leave me there to collapse on my bed sheets.
I never got pregnant.
That was seen to a long time ago. As soon as I first became a woman he sent mom and me to “get me taken care of”, an IUD was inserted into me and I was told it was for “my acne”, though I had none.
My soccer coach came to me one day, he said he wanted to speak to me in his office after practice.
“You have bruises.” He said
I hoped my eyes conveyed my hope and my fear. I said nothing.
“How’d you get them?”
I said nothing.
“You’re a gorgeous girl. I can imagine how you got them.”
My eyes welled up with tears. What did I say??He put a finger up. “One time.”
My eyes grew confused and he stood.
“One time with you, and I wont cut you from the team.”
My heart fell into my stomach and I stood to go. I wouldn't do this. This was suppose to be my escape.
He grabbed my arm.
“You don't want to go home. You’re bruised at home. I’ll be gentle, and think of how much more time you’ll have to spend at home. I’m in charge of the basketball, and softball team. You’ll never play a school sport again.
I stood frozen, then, slowly. I turned around and walked back into his office, and he shut the door.
Coach didn’t lie. He was gentle as he removed my uniform before slowly laying me down on top of his desk. He wanted to kiss, to touch, to squeeze as he had me. Every time I turned away, he’d hold my face so I’d have to look at him. After half an hour it was over. He admired me a moment while I lay pinned to his desk before he took out his phone and snapped some pictures before letting me rise and change back into my uniform. He promoted me to striker the next practice.
When I got home that night I felt exhausted. I couldn’t do it tonight. I just couldn’t. I’d stay up all night if I had to. I sat at the kitchen table and told them I had to study for a big test. I sat there for hours pretending to read a text book. My mom went to bed around 1am. He stayed up. I stayed up.
It was around 6 am I realized I could get ready to go to school. I showered, dressed and headed out the door.
The day was fuzzy. I was light headed from lack of sleep. When I got back home after practice mom was in bed and hot tea sat brewing. Deciding to get some extra caffeine in I drank the entire mug before sitting down.
After 30 minutes my mind started to grow dim. A heavy weight of sleep crept over me. I tried to fight it, trying to get passed the haze of my vision. He was there. Standing over me, I realized I was slumped in the chair and he picked me up, putting my limp body over his shoulder.
No. How could this be? I had been so alert moments before.
It was the cotton mouth was made me realized it had been in the tea.
My back hit the mattress and the last thing I heard before darkness surrounded me was him unbuckling his belt.
My body ached when I woke.
I went out into the kitchen and found no breakfast, or mom.
I checked the living room. I stood there confused until I whirled around at the sound of his voice.
“She left.”
“She ran off.”
I didn’t believe him. I stormed off barely remembering my backpack on the way to school.
When I got home her car still wasn't there.
But he was.
“Shit is going to change now that you’re mom is gone.” he told me.
“You have to pull your own weight around here from now on.”
He told me to make dinner. I did. He ate it without a word and then pulled me onto him.
“Your mom left you. Nobody gives a shit. But if you leave me. I’ll kill you.”
He said this in my ear as his hands roved over my body. Dragging my shorts down to my knees.
Turning on the TV he adjusted me so I sat directly on his erection and he began pressing it into my dry slit. The friction hurt as he settled inside of me, beginning to slowly grind absent-mindedly as he watched a show. I didn't struggle. Didn't fight him. This was all I was worth.
