1 February 2013
Slut That's my name I'm a dirty little whore. Easy. Hoe.
No one knows what I've been through. The thoughts that chill my heart like ice, the night that played again and again in my head. On repeat. repeat. repeat.
They say it was all my fault. They say I was asking for it. They say I shouldn't have worn the skank clothes.
I was in jeans and a ratty old tee. With a ragged old heart and a sad little mind, kissing a boy at a party I'd never met, hoping the kisses would numb the pain in my heart. I didn't mean for it to happen.
I am a dirty little slut for calling the cops when he took me by my neck shoved me on the bed. zip zip. I tried to SCREAM. but he covered my mouth. tears blood hurt mean drunk OW.
He threw my heels at me left me to rot in the host's parent's bedroom. jeans still down. tears coming like waves of crippling pain. and the shame that shouldn't be there was. He went back to the party. I retreated into the pillows.
Now I'm a whore because I called the police. He calls me a Freak. I just want attention. Everyone knows I wanted it too. Still weeping. Pants still down. I was a dirty little hoe for calling him out on doing what he did. I'm a loser. I'm a pathetic little slut.
They don't hear the heavy breaths or taste the beer on his chapped, cracked lips or feel the blood pour fresh on their wrists or remember. the night. my world went black. downhill. i turned into a mess of runny mascara and shattered dreams. from a beautiful women to a cowering child in 4 minutes 23 seconds flat. They don't count the days till they can run away. Till they don't have to hide anymore. Till they don't have to cry. Till they don't remember the beating of two hearts, as one writhed in pain and one danced in sin. and they don't feel his body suffocating your own.
I was asking for it.
Slut • Opuss № I