That Day In January

He layed me on the snow. My backside was freezing, the hard chunks of snow overwhelming my body like prickling needles. He pulled my pants down. My hearing was reduced to ringing. He spoke, but it all sounded like gibberish to me. My body was numb. I couldn’t feel a thing. Tears fell down my cheeks. The warmth tingled against the skin. And for what felt like an eternity, I lay there. With a blank expression on my face, I felt as the flame dimmed lower and lower. He got up. Got dressed. Said words I couldn’t comprehend. Left. I stayed in that same position for a while. Getting up, my body warmed up. Soon a piercing pain shocked me. Reality struck. Blood everywhere. Rolling down my legs. I got dressed and my feet dragged across the snow and sheets of ice stuck to the pavement. My body trembling the whole way home. Not a sound escaped my mouth. I got into the shower. No one was home. The warm water heated me. Removed the dried blood on me. I took the loofah and scrubbed my body. I scrubbed and scrubbed, I felt dirty. Harder I scrubbed, the dirt, the filth was still there. I scrubbed until my skin tore. No matter how hard I scrubbed, I still felt dirty. The fire in my chest was extinguished. Cold. Just as the air was that day in January.