Posted by Ana Castillo on Friday, January 3, 2014 Under: Lifestyle
I was 5 years old 
When she took me to her boyfriend's house
she went to the back with him 
I was in the living room
I was 5 years old.

Then she got married, sort off.
To another man, I guess. 
But can you really call him a man?

I was 20 years old.
He spoke to me about love.
Told me I was perfect.
But in saying I was perfect, I could only be his.
I was 20 years old.

The memory triggered.
 5 years old again.
She was screaming, begging him to stop.
Telling him to let go.
I was standing, paralyzed. 
I couldn't help her, I couldn't stop him. 
He covered her mouth as she screamed.
She reached her hand out as he dragged her to the bed.
He viciously grabbed her.
Touched her where I knew it was wrong.
I was 5 years old at 20 years old.

He didn't harm me, he didn't touch me.
His tone, his words, they triggered that memory.
That memory that slept within my conscious.
The memory that causes me to have low trust.
Explained so much, answered my questions.
More memories came.
I was 5 years old.

She held a log in her hands.
She told him if he took a step further,
she would kill him.
But I knew she wouldn't.
She had tears in her eyes,
She loved him.
Despite the pain he caused her,
She loved him.

I'm 21 years old...
I know pain.

Domestic Violence is sin
so is Rape

In : Lifestyle 

Tags: memory  rape  childhood 
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Yours Truly

Ana Castillo Media Studies Major at Queens College Photographer, Writer and Enthusiast The world is my my book, I edit the pages.
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