The R Word

I wish I was untouched. Clean, void of all the hands that have ever touched me. Clear of the scars across my body, blemishes on my skin. Cleansed of his touch, deep inside of me. I shudder when I hear that word... 'rape'. I suddenly become another statistic, another sad story, another lesson to learn from. I should have been more careful, said something sooner, because apparently, when you're sexually assaulted, there's no excuse. You should have been more aware of your surroundings, told an adult, never mind the fact that you were only nine, you should have done SOMETHING. But I didn't. I couldn't. Because most nights my mom was too drunk to comprehend what she was doing. Because most nights, I was too afraid of what he might do to even leave my room. And because most nights, I hoped that it would stop. The next time. Or the next time. Or the next time. And now? I still wish it would stop. The nightmares. The flashbacks. My breath. My life...