Member-only story
Life Betrayed — 3
A journey
Over the next 10 days, I will be posting ten connected poems about abuse and possible recovery. Some people may find the content confronting, even disturbing. It contains strong language and is emotionally charged. The content is not suitable for children.
I know his face but not his name.
I didn’t ask, I wasn’t game.
He looked so hot; torn jeans, black T.
He came and bought a drink for me.
We talked, and then another drink.
The noise, the smells, I didn’t think.
My girlfriend warned me just last week.
Her drink was spiked by some weird geek.
When she passed out, her friends were near
and took her home. But Me? No fear.
He smiled and laughed and held my hand.
Another drink. I tried to stand
but slumped into his arms instead.
When I came to it was in bed,
my clothes all gone and him on top.
I squeezed myself up tight to stop
what he would do. He hit me then
and slapped my face. And that is when
I knew I couldn’t stop my fate.
I tried to fight. It was too late.
He hurt me more and pushed and rammed
and shouted out that he’d be damned
if he would let a slut like me
accept a drink and then go free.
And when he’d come, and still inside,
he fell asleep. I sobbed and cried
and tried to move and tried to shout.
My voice was gone and I passed out.
I lie curled on an unmade bed.
I hug my knees and stare ahead.
