Flashback. Now.

He’s licking me. I hate that. His whiskers rub against me and make me sore. It gets all red and hurts to pee for the next couple of days.

I hurt myself now at this thought. I hit myself. I hate myself.

I don’t want this out there, but I’m having trouble staying in the present and no one is awake right now.
So I write.

He… He..
I can’t do this. I can’t just write it. I need.. someone. I need someone.

-And so I move this from an entry in I am Living, to an email. I don’t even know to whom yet-

He puts his fingers inside of me. First one, then another. The second hurts and I realize it’s because he is stretching me open.
I know why, and I hate myself. I know what’s coming.

“Doesn’t that feel good?” he’s asking. I hate his voice like this.
I want to scream, “NO”, or at least shake my head, but I’m too scared to move; to breathe.
I want him to stop.
I WANT HIM TO STOP.

I know he won’t.

I keep stopping, digging my nails into my head & telling myself I can’t write this out.
I honestly don’t know what else to do.
No one is awake. If I don’t get it out I will go there.
I don’t want to go there.

I can’t do this. I can’t write any more of this out.

And there’s no one I can stand to know about this anyway.

-So I move it back to wordpress. Hold my breath & hit “publish’
No rereading it 15 times for errors, because I’ll just delete it.

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