“Take off your clothes,” he commanded.


Then he walked to the door, locked it and put the key in his pocket. He turned to me again and screamed, “I thought I asked you to take off your clothes!” I shivered terribly. What was I to do? I was only twelve years old. He came closer towards me. I moved backwards, until I hit the wall. He smiled an evil smile as he unbuckled his belt. I looked around swiftly,searching for a way to escape. I found none.

He was done with his belt now. I clung to the curtain that hung down from the wall. He beckoned on me to lie on the bed; I moved my head slowly from left to right in disagreement. He beckoned on me again, this time with a frown on his face; I repeated the movement of my head. He approached me and I held unto the curtain tightly, hoping that I would disappear, or maybe become invincible at the least. When I didn’t disappear or become invincible, I started crying. The tear drops were warm and salty; I tasted a little as it got to my lips.

He was right in front of me now; he placed his hand on my shoulder and I screamed. I knew no one would come to rescue me, as there wasn’t anyone else home, but I screamed. The slap to my cheek that followed was hard and swift, I almost cut my tongue in-between my teeth. He grabbed me and flung me onto the bed. The actions that followed were rapid. He got on top me and threatened that he’d kill me if I screamed again. I sobbed intensely but quietly as he ripped my shirt and tore my skirt.

The tears were hotter now. I pleaded passionately but they fell on deaf ears.I felt something snap deep beneath as he pierced himself inside me. I screamed again, this time even louder. He punched me in the face and pierced me even harder. Each thrust was more painful than the previous. I tried to scream but I couldn’t, his hand was firmly pressed against my mouth. He continued piercing until my walls broke and my eyes almost popped out of their sockets. I thought I would die. I almost did. He ravaged me like a beast and I moaned deeply, out of horrifying pain. I bled as he tore me open. I was only twelve years old.

Cursed be the womb that gave life to such a man. How will I tell the world that was raped by my own father?
As he walked out of the room, along with my dignity and pride of purity, I knew his stench of shame remained to last forever.