"Poor Sweet Girl/There Is A House"
There is a house in a small little town. It's just an ordinary house to most people. A house where a family lived. A house where people grew up. But to me it's different.
To me it's a house of horrors. A house that contains a nightmare that I can never wake up from. A house who's road name is the same name as the man who destroyed me inside it. A house that's good memories are oven taken by the bad. I loved that house just like I once loved the man who was in it. There were plenty of laughs had in that house. But no matter how much I try I can't forget the bad memory that is also there.
I can't forget the weight of him. The feeling of his cum hitting the inside of my thighs. The sound of his breathing beside my ear. The words he said. "I won't put it in" "Just for a minute baby" it's like a never ending movie that is stuck on repeat. Every time I look at that house, that window on the end of the house, all I think is: that poor sweet girl.
That poor girl who just wanted someone to love her. That poor girl who just wanted to say she was dating the star football player. That poor sweet girl. That poor girl will never walk out that door. That poor girl is still on that bed. That poor girl is forever stuck just inside that window. That poor girl who if you listen close enough you can still hear begging for it to end. That poor girl who told herself over and over that it was ok. It was her fault. Her pants were too tight. She should have just said no the moment things started. She should have tried harder to get him off of her. She should have said no I'm uncomfortable with this when he said " I won't put it in." She should have pushed him off when he said "Just for a minute baby." She should have screamed. She should have fought harder. She shouldn't have given in to it and just accepted it. She should have kicked, clawed, bit when he ignored her saying no. Maybe if she did nothing would have changed. Maybe it would have. She shouldn't have felt bad when he cried when she called him a rapist. But that poor sweet girl had such a big heart. She loved him and it hurt to know she made him cry. If only that poor sweet girl had known what would happen when she went over there that October afternoon.
Part of her hates him for what he did. Part of her still thinks he was sorry. That poor sweet innocent girl wonders if what he did haunts him. If he really was sorry. If she is the only one. That poor sweet girl just wants to forget. That girl is so tired of being scared all the time. Is tired of living in an endless loop of pain and fear. Is tired of feeling him, hearing him, smelling him. She wishes she could erase what he did to her. She wishes he understood how much damage he did. That hormones don't just take over. That no means fucking no. That stop means stop. That she never asked for this. That she just wanted to feel loved. She didn't wanna feel like she is damaged. She didn't wanna live her life scared of the dark. That she just wanted to be his. That poor sweet girl. That poor 14 year old girl. That girl will never grow up. That girl will forever be 14. That girl just wants to be okay again.
I just wanna be okay. I don't wanna have my skin crawl every time something touches the inside of my legs. I don't wanna have to be scared if my boyfriend is gonna listen when I say no. I don't wanna have to be scared to say no. I shouldn't have to live like this. Why couldn't he just listen? Why did he have to do this to me? Why doesn't he fucking care how fucked up I am now because of him? Why has he never said he was sorry for what he did? If only he could live a day in my shoes. The shoes I didn't wanna have to wear. If only he could feel the fear, see what I see. The shoes that someone may make his daughter wear one day. If she is forced to wear those shoes will he see how bad it is? Will he feel horrible about what he did because now he sees the effects of it.
I keep telling myself he is sorry. That he didn't mean it. That he loved me. That I am not worthless. But he isn't sorry and most days, I don't feel worth anything. I am damaged and cracked and the pieces just don't fix together anymore. They will never fit again. There will always be a hole missing from my soul because that piece is that poor sweet girl.
There is a house in a small little town. A house who's road name is the same name as the man who destroyed me inside it. Inside that house is a piece of myself that I will never get back.
