Little pretender

Never will I forget the smell and taste of cigaret smoke and toothpaste.

I woke up to it many times between the age’s of eight and fourteen. A man who’s face I could never make out but I knew his hands well, they were always the same. They rubbed at my innocents like cold wire wool on dry dirty dishes leaving me red and swollen. Each breath labored, a panting wild animal chasing it’s pray.

I lay still and silent with my eyes shut until he was finished, pretending to be asleep. I was always afraid that if he knew I was awake, worse things would happen. I wondered if he could feel my heartbeat speeding up through my skin or see it as he’d touch the top of my rainbow bright panties.

When I could see the hallway light through my eyelids I’d know he was finished. The smell of him now mixed with my insides was left lingering in the air and I felt dirty breathing it in.

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in: Logo

You are commenting using your account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s