MARCH 27, 2003

I lie in bed, awake, but pretending sleep. I don’t want him to know. Maybe he’ll just leave, the way I want him to. But no, he just stands there. Finally his voice reaches me. “Psst. Are you awake?” I ignore him. I remain silent, praying silently in my head. They normally don’t work, but hell, desperate is desperate. Finally, I hear him move, the floor creaking, moving…away? He’s gone. I let out my breath in a sigh of relief. I relax, breathing slowly, trying to control my heart.

Creak. Rustle.

Please, Jesus, no. Its no good. I know that sound. I knows its meaning. He’s back, standing like before. A shadow on my wall, backlit by the nightlight in the hall. I give up. Then and there, I stop fighting, and make up my mind to do what I have never done before.

“Are you just going to stand there all night or are you going to come in?” My voice is barely a whisper, even though it doesn’t matter. No one is here to hear us. I wish there was. My hands grow clammy and cold as I wait eons for his answer. “Do you want me to?” His voice also a whisper, albeit louder than mine, contained unspoken questions. Questions I had to answer, to get it over with. “Might as well.” I sit up, curling up, away from him, as he glides silently across the room. He sits beside me on my bed, and I move over, so he can have more room. I know what he’s here for, and he knows it as well. I can hear it in his breathing, see it in the way he sits, the way he hold his head, his hands carefully staying away from me.

How to do this? It will start eventually, but I want it over with, so I can forget again. I thought it was over… until tonight. Anger rises in me, which I push down. I had expected this all day. I swore it wouldn’t happen again. Not after my fifteenth birthday, but here he is, barely over a week after, sitting on my bed, at midnight. This one is my fault, I know, because I asked him in. We make small talk. Wondering how Granny is holding up, since it was her brother who had committed suicide that day. What will happen to the money, what made him do it. As the minutes pass, and I just sit there, I know he’s getting ready.

I cant wait any more, since tears are already making my eyes sting. Slowly, my hand trembling, I reach out, and lay my hand on his leg, my hand stark white against the black polyester of the swim trunks he sleeps in. He looks down at my hand, then up at me, though he can’t see my face through my hair. Thank God. He brings his hands up, and I force myself to relax, even as he cups my breasts in his hands, squeezing, kneading. I sigh, knowing that’s what he wants to hear, even though I don’t feel anything at all. Jesus, forgive me. I don’t know why I bother. I can never be atoned for all the sins I’ve committed. Too many, too many times to count.

He brings my shirt up, and I lay back on my bed, giving in completely, offering no help. He caresses, licks, sucks, does every horrible thing he’d done before. At the proper times, I make the proper noise even though I am not truly here. After a while, he moves on, farther down my body. He touches me, pushing inside, and I can not ignore him any longer. I fight him, always, not physically, but mentally, trying to fight down the feelings he raises in me. Sometimes it works, sometimes it doesn’t. Tonight it works.

I squirm away from him, displaying my impatience. “Get on top” hetells me. I cant refuse. He rolls over, and pushes me to where he wants me. My underwear is completely gone now, but his trunks are still on, and I rub against him, mechanically, although I’m starting to feel something building inside me. I don’t want these feelings, but I cant stop them, and I cant stop what I’m doing till he decides to let me. I feel like crying, but I cant, not here, not now. Finally, I just let myself go, and do nothing to stop the feelings inside, just grinding again and again. Time passes. Finally, he holds me still, and I roll off him. He rearranges my clothes, and leaves, silently as he came. Finally, I allow myself to cry. My fault my fault my fault…. The words ring in my mind. I have never felt so ashamed. But in the end, isn’t it all my fault? I cry myself to sleep, praying once more, for forgiveness.