Two robots. One starry night.
"It's not you, it's me"
She seatched her entire database. No response found.
They tore her apart for their own joy. an innocent soul having her hand grabbed, being constantly reassured that she will be helped.
Imagine being taken captive and slowly realising that it’s beyond your ability to break free. Imagine losing all control to your body; your arms, legs and voice becoming useless.
Imagine being broken, in more ways than you could ever count. Imagine someone reaching inside to your soul and grabbing it; forcing it to gradually fade away.
tick tock tick tock; seconds feeling like hours, hours feeling like days.
closed are her sunken eyes.
tears are escaping from her sunken eyes; trying to make up for the rest of her body.
She was 8-years old. A mind so in...
1. the hair on her legs, they sneer. she does not break.
2. the stain when she bleeds through her jeans; they laugh. she does not break.
3. the snotty drip in their half moon smiles as they circle her like wolves circling prey. run from us, they snarl, but they don’t let her.
4. the underwear he discards to climb up on top of him to make his claim, no, he yells, but he does not listen. he did not know until now that this is what breaking feels like.
5. the laughter. you should have enjoyed it.
6. the disbelief. are you sure you said no? you slut, what were you wearing?
7. the outrage. always, the outrage. we will not break.
i am proud of my flesh, the sca...