Page 33 of Burning Souls

He thrusts back into my throat, causing me to gag.

10

HEAVEN OR HELL

“There is no fucking way I will ever be doing that,” I scoff, sitting on the countertop in the kitchen, swinging my legs back and forth and sipping my ice-cold beer. Jessie, Sean, and Tobias stand around me, also drinking a beer. Music plays in front of the TV in the other room, blasting around the house.

“And why is that?” Tobias smirks, reaching into the fridge for another drink, popping the lid off with his teeth. So fucking hot.

“Maybe because you want to tie me to a chair, blindfold me, and put me in a ring of fire. Sorry, but that sounds like you may be trying to kill me.” I huff as they all stop looking at me and burst out laughing. I don’t get scared easily, but why the hell would I trust three men to sit me tied and blindfolded in a ring of fire?

Would I come out alive?

Is this their way of saying they’re done with me?

“If we wanted to kill you. We wouldn’t tell you,” Jessie says, shaking his head and stepping closer to me. The room suddenly becomes hotter.

“I would wait for you to be asleep. Climb on the bed and slice your throat, watching you bleed to death as I fuck you one lasttime. This time you won’t be breathing.” The words are almost soft for such a vicious act.

I rub my legs together, suddenly hot from the words that just came out of Jessie’s mouth, sending things to my brain. Things every day, sane people wouldn’t think about. We have proven I am not normal or rational.

I’m a crazy badass bitch who refuses to let a man control her again.

We live in a world where the government controls us.

If a woman says she feels unsafe walking alone at night, that’s our problem, not the man’s problem, for speeding up as soon as he sees a woman on her own. Or when one of us is raped, the first question asked is what you were wearing, like if we were wearing a dress and heels, that makes it our fault.

People are quick to assume we are lying if we don't report it, but the truth is, most of us don’t want to have to relive that moment over and over, about whether people believe us.

I would do anything to be able to scream to the world about what they did and watch them suffer, but even I know there is a slim chance that would ever happen, so I gave up on that wish a long time ago, even though I wish I didn't.

We invited it to happen.

I was fifteen when it happened to me. The man was my father’s age or older, but what I do know is that I screamed with all the air I had in my lungs for him to stop. I tried.

I fucking tried to get him to stop but he was bigger than me, his hold was tighter.He silenced me.

He took my choice away, again and again.

There were moments I would sit curled up in that room, wishing I had taken my own life and stopped the suffering, but every day I kept going.

I took the pain for over ten years. I let the man who raised me take me into a world of suffering.

If I ever get to see my father again, I won’t let him live. I will carve every single piece of his body and put him through the pain he put me through.

I want him to feel what I did. I want him to look at me and scream for me to stop, begging me not to do it.

Then I want to see him give up and let his body and mind go numb, and let it happen with no fight because it is worthless.

I want him to feel like killing himself. I want him to have to sit at the top of the stairs as a child and watch his mother get beaten by men and then killed over and over while a rock is taken to her skull, leaving her to bleed out.

I want him to pretend to sleep while his mother lays a doll and a letter in his hands, so she can whisper to him.“Mummy loves you, sweetheart. I’m sorry.”

This is why I spend my days getting justice for the women who aren’t able just like me. I never got any justice.

My rapist is still out there breathing and living his life for all I know. My father is probably still searching for me and doing what he did to me, or maybe he found my sisters. My body shakes from the thought of my father doing what he did to me to them.

It’s been years since I was taken from our house. I never saw them again. I never got told if they were safe or if they got taken as well. I never really thought about it until today, at this very moment.

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