Violated

Running down a dark alleyway. The chilling rain runs tracks in the grime that stains the walls. His foot-steps echo off the decaying brick. The rain almost drowns out the screams, my screams, that reverberate and mingle with the ringing of his sneakers on the blacktop. Damnit. The concrete feels rough against my cheek. No! Footsteps getting closer. Closer. I crawl into a dingy corner. I can barley hear laughter above the droning of the rain. I wonder who could laugh like that. Deep in my mind, I know. The top of his Nikes are just inches from my face. He is laughing at me. Malicious cackles. The devil himself could not sound more menacing. His hands. So rough. So dirty. Touching me. Unbuttoning my jeans. Help me. Cold. So cold. His fingers contaminate my skin. He tosses my shirt aside as the travel down my stomach. They slip under the edges of my grey underwear and pull them down my kicking legs. His strong hands tighten on my wrists. Pain explodes inside me. His muscular body presses hard against me. Smothering me. Knocking the breath from me with each forceful thrust. I am too frightened to cry. The hard stones of the alley dig into my back turning red from my blood. He releases my wrists, knowing I cannot move let alone run with his weight atop me. His fingers pinch my skin as he rips off my bra. The pain lessons as he withdraws himself from me. His filthy fingers explore me once more. When he is finished, he wipes them off on my stomach and zips up his pants. A voice echoes down the alleyway, “Is anyone there?” He sprints away, the sound of his Nikes on the blacktop bounces off the moldy walls of the cold and dirty alleyway. Written April 1st, 2002 © on Apr 01 2002 09:15 AM PST   18 • 0 • 10