They called her the girl with the big ears, though they didn't call her that to her face. That is, not to her ears. Not exactly. Not intentionally. They were sitting in the cafeteria—one line of ... [+]
I looked out my window to see a shadowy figure outside of my door. I knew in the back of my mind why he was there but for some reason I couldn’t make myself believe that this was happening. I hear a sharp knock on the door and I get the brief thought to jump out of the window because anything was better than what he was going to do to me. But there wasn't time. He had opened the door and was coming inside.
Why did I do the things that I had done? I wish I could say that I did not regret what I had done, but I did. He was in the kitchen killing time before I came down. I knew that it would be worse if I didn't come to meet him.
I heard the faint ding of a notification on my phone but i don't dare to look. I know that it is the same thing they say every time.
“Just kill yourself.”
“You are such a slut!” He slams a jar on the ground and it shatters.
Why did I do that? I knew he didn’t love me, but I did it anyway. The past is in the past so I can't do anything but wait for the moment where I decide to face the nightmare that is the 20 year old man who said he loved me. I try to hold my breath because in some way that would help him forget where my room is, but, no, he is coming up the stairs so I must decide if I want to greet him at the top of the stairs or wait until he comes to my room to do what he is going to do with me. I look to my desk, to a note that I wrote to my parents the night before:
“Goodbye mother goodbye father. I'm sorry that I didn’t listen but I love you.”
I open the door and he is standing there. His face, cunning and handsome, but I knew that there was something evil about the way he grinned at me. He began to slip off my shirt and I don't say a word while it is happening and then its over, but then he pulls out a gun. He holds if to my head and says “You deserve this.”
I know that I don't, but I can't live with the memory, so maybe it's better this way.
Why did I do the things that I had done? I wish I could say that I did not regret what I had done, but I did. He was in the kitchen killing time before I came down. I knew that it would be worse if I didn't come to meet him.
I heard the faint ding of a notification on my phone but i don't dare to look. I know that it is the same thing they say every time.
“Just kill yourself.”
“You are such a slut!” He slams a jar on the ground and it shatters.
Why did I do that? I knew he didn’t love me, but I did it anyway. The past is in the past so I can't do anything but wait for the moment where I decide to face the nightmare that is the 20 year old man who said he loved me. I try to hold my breath because in some way that would help him forget where my room is, but, no, he is coming up the stairs so I must decide if I want to greet him at the top of the stairs or wait until he comes to my room to do what he is going to do with me. I look to my desk, to a note that I wrote to my parents the night before:
“Goodbye mother goodbye father. I'm sorry that I didn’t listen but I love you.”
I open the door and he is standing there. His face, cunning and handsome, but I knew that there was something evil about the way he grinned at me. He began to slip off my shirt and I don't say a word while it is happening and then its over, but then he pulls out a gun. He holds if to my head and says “You deserve this.”
I know that I don't, but I can't live with the memory, so maybe it's better this way.