Nothing can compare to that horrendous feeling I felt that night.

The slimly feeling of his hands on my breasts.

The cold feeling of his fingers tracing along my private part below.

Terrible,

Disgusting,

Get him off,

Someone please help,

Please,

Please,

Please,

All I could do was beg silently.

My mother was only a call away yet.

I couldn't.

I just couldn't get the lump out of my throat.

I couldn't allow her to see me in such a way.

I'm disgusting.

I feel disgusting.

That was the most disgusting night of my life.

You think I'd cry my eyes out after that horrible,

horrible event.

But no.

This was beyond tears.

I locked myself away for three days.

Isolated.

Alone.

Broken.

No tears.

She said go play with him.

She said "He's your uncle."

She said "You only see him once ever other year. Stop being a selfish bitch."

How could she?

How could I?

How could I face that man?

He was the father I never had.

He treated like his little princess.

For once in my life, I felt cherished.

I trusted him.

Loved him.

But I was betrayed.

He broke me.

Tears.

Tears finally fell.

I could finally feel the pain.

I bared through the pain.

Accepted all the truth and tears.

Suppressed all the sadness.

Aimed for happiness.

And I finally achieved it.

But yet, it takes only one phone call.

One phone call from his gross and disgusting voice to break me again.

I can lie.

I can fake it.

I can make myself believe that it doesn't hurt.

That I can overcome.

But all it takes is one phone call to remind of the truth.

To remind me what happened.

And then I'm broken again.

Until I can suppress it again.

But this cycle will always continue.

Because now, that disgusting event is apart of me.