A snippet of something else
Night time in the city. Nameless streets leading to nameless destinations father away from here, away from her. Unimportant. Unnecessary.
Sweltering heat. Summer in the city. Heat that radiates off the pavement and consumes all that it touches. Consumes her, and she can’t breathe, can’t even scream. Can’t fight the man forcing himself upon her. Too much heat, too much strength, and she doesn’t fight back. She never fights back, even in the nightmares that thrust her awake, wide-eyed and sweating, screaming in the night and echoing through the empty apartment.
He is upon her, takes what he can from her, then tosses her away just as quickly as he appeared, casting her aside like a child’s toy in the presence of some newer, better invention. He runs back into the night, into the heat and steam rising from the sour piss in the gutters, leaving her in the alley amidst the stink of trash and shit and sex.
She tucks her shirt back into her skirt, tucks the pain away deep inside of her, holds it in the dark places so that maybe it will die without precious sunlight. She starves it, starves herself, when the darkness doesn’t kill it, only makes it stronger and fiercer, endows it with teeth. It gnaws at her, chews away contentedly at her insides, hollowing her out to make room for its growth, making room inside its shiny new shell.
So she turns to harder stuff, tries to poison the thing growing inside of her, the pain and agony and burning rage. She longs for the freedom at the bottom of the bottle, the sweet release with each golden drop of whiskey. The nectar of the gods, vital life bestowed upon her. She drinks and drinks, consumes all she can, but the thing just keeps growing, crying out inside of her, and it just won’t die. It grows and feeds off of her, furious with her disobedience, raging against her frail body and the helpless mass that it shelters.
Nothing matters anymore. Nothing will bring her peace or make it better, not now. Nothing can ever make it better, make it stop hurting, and the mass continues to grow, nourished by the pain, for surely she’s not doing anything for its survival. The pain is strong, nothing can wash it away, the pain of that night and the gnawing of the beast on her insides. Nothing can make it better,. No calming words, no soothing touch- as if she could stand for anyone to touch her now. Nothing but useless platitudes that fall hollow from lips and clatter against teeth on their journey out. Nothing matters anymore.
Time to finally take things into her own hands. Time to make it right.
-Mai
Sweltering heat. Summer in the city. Heat that radiates off the pavement and consumes all that it touches. Consumes her, and she can’t breathe, can’t even scream. Can’t fight the man forcing himself upon her. Too much heat, too much strength, and she doesn’t fight back. She never fights back, even in the nightmares that thrust her awake, wide-eyed and sweating, screaming in the night and echoing through the empty apartment.
He is upon her, takes what he can from her, then tosses her away just as quickly as he appeared, casting her aside like a child’s toy in the presence of some newer, better invention. He runs back into the night, into the heat and steam rising from the sour piss in the gutters, leaving her in the alley amidst the stink of trash and shit and sex.
She tucks her shirt back into her skirt, tucks the pain away deep inside of her, holds it in the dark places so that maybe it will die without precious sunlight. She starves it, starves herself, when the darkness doesn’t kill it, only makes it stronger and fiercer, endows it with teeth. It gnaws at her, chews away contentedly at her insides, hollowing her out to make room for its growth, making room inside its shiny new shell.
So she turns to harder stuff, tries to poison the thing growing inside of her, the pain and agony and burning rage. She longs for the freedom at the bottom of the bottle, the sweet release with each golden drop of whiskey. The nectar of the gods, vital life bestowed upon her. She drinks and drinks, consumes all she can, but the thing just keeps growing, crying out inside of her, and it just won’t die. It grows and feeds off of her, furious with her disobedience, raging against her frail body and the helpless mass that it shelters.
Nothing matters anymore. Nothing will bring her peace or make it better, not now. Nothing can ever make it better, make it stop hurting, and the mass continues to grow, nourished by the pain, for surely she’s not doing anything for its survival. The pain is strong, nothing can wash it away, the pain of that night and the gnawing of the beast on her insides. Nothing can make it better,. No calming words, no soothing touch- as if she could stand for anyone to touch her now. Nothing but useless platitudes that fall hollow from lips and clatter against teeth on their journey out. Nothing matters anymore.
Time to finally take things into her own hands. Time to make it right.
-Mai