You talk. You die.

You talk. You die.

Why, when I remember my mind floods with fear? I can now see your face.

At one time it was coming to me like a smoky film. Like heat off hot pavement. Wavering in and out.

But now I see you.

You bastard.
You hurt me.

I remember the day as if it were yesterday.
You threw my body up against a parked car.

I felt the door handle fire its pain into my back.
Nothing like the pain of terror I felt in my gut.

Your forearm across my throat.
Your fingers pushing into my girl parts.
Even I had yet to discover.

“You yell, you die.”

Eyes wild with fear. Legs quivering under your strength.

I closed my eyes and asked “where are you, Mom.?”
“oh sorry, you are busy getting high tonight.”

Suddenly I became enraged.
I snarled. I kicked. I scratched, I hit.
And I ran

I hid.
Behind parked cars.

I watched with held breath as you walked through the parking lot.
I did not breathe.
I moved silently as a cat.
One hiding spot to another.

You left.
I now know your name. It is Thomas.

I heard you were arrested.
Multiple assault charges against young women.

I was not the only one.
There is no comfort in that.

You deserve to die.
You have damaged untold numbers of young women.
I am but one who is now able to speak.

You bastard. Thomas.
I will tell my story.
And I will say your name.

Thomas Thomas Thomas
I will feel no fear or shame.

I did nothing wrong.
You hurt me.

I will tell my story.
And I will say your name.

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