I can’t really tell I’m awake or not. My eyes are closed. The hands of sinners are upon me. The feeling’s thick. Hard. Heavy. The hands feel so harsh against my skin. Evil. My spine feels weak, and my chest feels poisoned. The feeling of purity is being confused with the feeling of hate.

My eyes feel as though water’s going to burst through them. I want to see around me, but I’m too afraid of what I might see. My body’s no longer wrapped in a sheet of innocence. The sheet has been torn apart and disgraced with elements of sin. I want to keep some corners of my mind pure. Free. I keep my eyes closed, and senses blocked off, to keep some sort of sanity. In my mind all I can see is black. Not the same kind of black you can see when your eyes are closed - usually you can see the blood through you eye lids, but that would imply there were some kind of light, and right now, it felt as though there were no such thing - but a thick kind of black, almost like goo. It was consuming my every thought. It mocked me.

There was an unhealthy sound, almost like a laugh, coming from the blackness. It sounded like death, or pain. I pictured what would be his hands on my body, touching me, leaving a scar every time his hands lay on a different part of me. The scar looked awful, terrifying. It resembled the blackness that filled my mind. It bled into my skin, and spread across the area it lay on. It almost looked like tree roots growing rapidly, poisoning my veins. I could imagine everything the eye could not dare to see. My thighs felt numb, my arms didn’t seem to remember how to work, and my stomach felt like it was going to twist inside itself.

It was strange, I’d never known this feeling to exist, and yet it felt so familiar. It felt as though it were what I had felt all along, rather than a foreign invasion. I tried to remember what it was like, to feel innocent, to feel happy, but it’s like I’d never felt such things in the first place. I wasn’t me anymore. I was the world. I was part of a place I could not recognize but knew well enough to know it wasn’t right.

The air seemed to scratch along my throat as it travelled to my lungs. I couldn’t decide whether I felt empty or over flowed. I wanted to scream, but it’s almost like I was too afraid that it would open up a door to another world I wasn’t ready for. I wasn’t scared of what was happening, but what could happen. What was going to happen. He got closer, and closer. I stood still. I froze. His breathing was heavy, and full of excitement. I breathed in heavily, looking for some sort of relief, and rather than the feeling of freedom, his hands lay on my chest, at the sight of my chest pushing out as the air made it’s way through my body. They were grabbing me, pressing hard. Every time I took a breathe in, and my chest would move his hands would press even harder. It hurt. But what hurt more was not that his hands were inflicting pain, but the fact his hands felt they had the right to touch  me in such ways as this; in such a demonic sense. I’d not been in this world long, and yet I felt like I was caught right in the middle of it.

Once he was done, I lay there. I dare not to move. I did not think to run, or hide. It was too late. He’d done with me his sick desires. I felt no need to protect myself anymore. I’d been done with, and there was no going back. I felt dirty. I felt used up. I wanted to wake up, and come to realize it was all just a dream, however I was aware enough to know that would never happen. I couldn’t help feel the feeling of worthlessness throughout my body. The guilt made me feel sick. And yet, I still dare not move. I lay there, drowning in my thoughts and guilt. Feelings I was not old enough to know, were all I knew now.
They’re all I had left. They’d replaced my innocence, and happiness. Now, all I had was sin, pain and the weight of this sick world crushing down on me, because of a mistake one man dared to make. Now, I was apart of his world.