She rubbed her eyes
The stranger was hovering above her
Breath tainted with the smell of alcohol
He was doing things she didn’t know
She said stop
He didn’t.
She cried out in pain
He just went harder
What seemed like hours
He finally stopped
He gave her a pill
No water to go with
It felt as if it was shredding her throat like a piece of glass
He throws her limp body like a ragdoll into the truck
She is back at home
Mother by her side
Thanking the stranger for returning her safely
How could she not see the bruises across my helpless body
Did mother know?
She was only 8.
(Part 2)
The stranger had been coming around more often
He told her to call him daddy.
Later that night he threw her room door open
He slurred “Happy Birthday Baby Girl!”
Throws her to floor; locking the door behind him
Unable to scream
She thinks “Daddy, why are you touching me this way?”
Hadn’t anyone told you?
Today is my birthday.
Years later, her “daddy” is asleep
She hovers over his bed with a gun
Staring down at the man who caused her so much pain
It was her turn,
The positions had switched. She was in control
She leaned over and whispered in his ear;
“I was only 8.”