“Sorry…”
“No. Shut up you stupid naive little girl. It’s too late now; you know the rules and chose to ignore them.”
I made a huge mistake. I made him angry. I’m getting worried at the look on his sharp, twisted carved face. He’s hurting my wrist. I’m alone in a dark street, with his cold glowing face lumbering over me. I’m confused by his sudden charge of anger that now pulsates from his black heart, to his hateful hands. Hatred twisting his face to a small sadistic smile that curls his lips that once longed to kiss me, now looks as though he wants to kill me. How can you sit there just watching him to this to me? Don’t you care? Don’t you care?
“You are going to learn to love me, young lady.” What did he mean by that? Is he going to teach me a lesson? Will he hurt me? What lesson will he teach me? Will it be another hit like last time, or will it be worse? What did he mean by young lady? He normally calls me a little girl, a child, not a young lady. A young lady is a beautiful woman, with a wonderful career, a loving partner and children. Children. To have children you have to…
No.
Whilst asking myself all these pointless, unhelpful questions (instead of concentrating on screaming) my so-called amazing date has dipped into his pocket. He holds it out…
It’s long, like the life I should’ve had
It’s sharp, like the cold expression on his face
It’s scary, like a violent dead-beat dad
It glistens, like eyes that fill with my tears
It’s real, like the silence of death
It’s dark, like laughing in graveyards at midnight
It’s hard, like when you’re head hits a footpath
It’s cold, like him when he fills me with fright
It’s being held by him like how a baby grasps its rattle and blanket - it’s reflecting the face of a child or a soon-to-be young lady? This isn’t happening it’s… it’s touching me. It’s digging into my left side. I think it’s pierced my skin, but my head hit the wall at the same time. I can’t decide what hurts more. The dizziness is obscuring my view and my whole body aches. My heart has sunk so low, I don’t think it will ever be able to flutter, beat or pound in my chest again. My eyes are so blurred and my ears are ringing. I can’t scream anymore. What hurts more? My head, my side or my heart...? My broken heart is now filled with hatred, fear and loss. He is going to do it, you know he is, and then he is going to kill me. I’m never going to see my mum again. I’m never going to see anyone again. I can’t scream, but you know its happening.
You know what’s happening, you know what he is about to do. I need your help. Listen to me! Do you want me to die? I’m shaking in fear as his cold hands are sliding up my leg, and you don’t want to help me. His face is so close to mine all I can see is his eyes. Those eyes are glaring at me. I can see hell burning in them. His eyes reflect a nightmare that no girl (or woman) should ever have to go through. I’m dizzy from the pain as he pushes the knife harder into me. The blade slowly penetrating deeper into my body, causing my knees to collapse, and my whole body to drain what little strength it had. I’m slowly loosing consciousness, and feel unstable from bumps and bruises. You still don’t want to do anything to save me? I’m not going to live, I’m scared. Although I won’t feel much more pain, he still has the knife, its gradually getting deeper. Slowly teasing me as my life ticks and tocks away. He will still get what he wants whether in awake or unconscious, alive or dead, he’ll still get what he wants. Sickening to know my fate, to know the way I will now die. No dignity. No pride. I have no power over him. I’m just a little girl. I’m so young. I’m crying. I’m going to die. You don’t care…
…Why?