Her Cries

For many years, the doors were closed and I was forced to live in silence. Locked away with another child I thought was a man, I couldn't understand why he asked to see my undergarments. He, who was blood, held the key to my escape but I could not voice my fears for I was to blame. He upturned my world and told me I asked for this pain.

I screamed for years only for it to be in vain. His fingers played me like a cello, his mouth working on the double. I squirmed and I wiggled. I pleaded for it to end. Did it stop? No, he told me we were taking turns. As we got older and I succumbed to his pleasure, I mourned for the child who was lost forever.

No longer will she be able to look at her father without seeing his little brother.

No longer will she yearn for the touch of a friend.

Instead, she will be repelled by the sound of others, and flinch as time forsakes her from ever seeking comfort from another.

She will feel guilty for actions out of her control and dirty for falling victim to an adolescent who did not seek repentance.

As I grew quieter and my mother more aware, she asked me questions that I could not answer. I saw her tears. I saw her quiver. I saw her heart break from the years I spent hidden inside. For her, I broke the cycle. For her, I wrote the words that I could no longer speak.

I told her of his fingers. I told her of my pain but, never a word about his eager wood that greeted me on the floor and in his bed. The love I had for my mother grew stronger as she defended her eldest and only daughter.

For a moment, the doors opened and I was released from years of Silence.

No longer will she lay on her back, dreaming of other places to be.

No longer will she be on all fours, waiting for someone to sweep her off of her feet.

Instead, she will push the memories to the back of her mind and pretend that life is just fine.

She will ignore the raging voice inside her thoughts telling her she will never be enough.

She will try and tell herself that she will and is loved.

For when hope was in my sights, it was just as quickly wripped away. You sat me down and took me on a drive. Showed me the sights and told me not to fight. It was these words you uttered that took the life out of my eyes.

'You were children'. 'You didn't know what you were doing'. 'Forgive him'. 'Move on'.

I let you silence me once before.

But for her, that child who was lost forever, I speak so she can be seen.

So she won't be diminished.

Her pain acknowledged.

For she is still here.

Hidden behind years of ignorance.