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Her Personal Curse (Part One) *warning, Graphic In Nature*

In a drunken stupor, I fall down on my comforter Baby blue sky covered in fluffy clouds of cotton. I kick off my shoes, faded pink chuck Taylors And make clumsy work of my shirt buttons. I slip an oversized shirt over my head, Bart Simpson, And pull it straight passed over my bra and panties, past my knees. Now in the dark, on my bed, I hear the door creak open. I turn to see your silhouette, and I hear the door behind you locking. I sat up, before you lunged on top of me, and smacked me in the face. I tried to push you off, but a little girl is nothing against a man. Fear pinned me down with your arms, the look in your eye was crazed. I yelled out as you punched me again, before stifling my breath with your hand. I felt your fingers probe underneath my shirt, rough and groping. The straps tore at my flesh as you ripped my bra apart. I tried to push your hand off my face, I was having trouble breathing But when you took your hand off and I gasped for air, it fell back against my cheek hard I stopped trying to push you away, tears streaming, afraid you’d hit me again. I bucked when your course fingers pinched, it only seemed to excite you more. I cringed as you raked your nails deep down my stomach digging in. You stopped at the top of my panties before yanking them till they tore. Panic sliced through me as I felt you unclasping your jeans, understanding swept me. I knew then what you intended to do and my blood ran cold at the thought. You took your hand off of my mouth and threatened to kill me if I screamed But I yelled anyway begging for help, preying that you would be caught. I was silenced by a stinging blow that sent me hard against the head board. Too disoriented by it to yell again before you were done taking off my t shirt. Through blurry eyes and mind I felt your eager hands pillage and explore. I was smacked again for screaming at how badly your fingers inside me hurt. You showed no mercy as I screamed in pain against the palm of your hand. You only continued to probe and play, talking dirty to me, making me talk back. Through bloodied lips and wrenching pain I was abused by this man He made me say unmentionable things about him, while he cruelly laughed.

Copyright © | Year Posted 2009




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Date: 4/23/2009 9:29:00 AM
This sounds like some of the stories I hear on weekends. There is no freakin' justice for this. God Bless. Vince
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Book: Shattered Sighs