With every pommel brings a pain that hits harder inside then out

With every strike induces a cicatrix that i must conceal within the haven of my clothes

Clothes that are constantly being pried off my already worn out body every night

laying in bed waiting for the inevitable to happen

The monster of the night lurking in the shadows,creeping,always waiting for the house to fall silent. Everything muffled, quiescent

Everything except my heart which is beating a mile a minute

His gaze penetrates my skin and i never knew such perturbation as this

The apprehension i must obscure though. He can smell it and that's what he feeds on

How could he take advantage of such an innocent little girl

A girl whose morality has been abhorrently tainted

She has now been exposed to the moral turpitude that exists in a world where she believed all was good.

She is lost, engulfed in nothing but helplessness

The helplessness of a child in need



But not just any child






His child