The girl was only 7,
When he came into the picture
Bribery by way of sweets
"Now I have her,"
He must have thought,
This was no mere caper
She wonders, now,
if he meant it like that.
But at 7, sugar meant yes
By age 10 her father had left
Gone to another land,
Fortune upon his lips
She cried for days,
She felt alone -
Bereft
The girl was only 11,
when she first thought
"What if I went?"
When even escaping
to magic-filled hardcovers
could not ease her descent
School bullies were not all
That pulled her
Towards the yawning void,
On eggshells she walked
Around him,
Being careful not to flip
His switch
He'll twitch -
See red
It filled her with dread
Better to stay tight lipped -
Better to be
His pet
12 to 14
A good girl
She must be -
But with the exception
Of fake notes
to skip P.E
Her nose buried in books,
Sitting in the nook
Of her mind,
Still dazzled by magic
Adventure
And love,
A soirée
with the feykind
She is 17. Not quite a girl,
He sees this -
A pat on the ***
The not-quite-girl whirls back
"I'm not comfortable with that, "
He looks at her then,
And almost....scoffs
"What? It's just a ****."
Her spine stiffens—
She does not laugh.
And even before this -
Hands on her waist
A hand, resting on her collarbone
Fingers tucked underneath
The collar of her shirt
She moves it away -
He moves it back
There are fingers on her sternum now,
Nearly touching her breast
And then he touched her *******
She was 20. Not a girl anymore
Well, barely.
Legally speaking, she was
Though,
She still felt like the girl
With everything
that had happened;
The tears,
The fear,
The manipulation,
The disrespect,
And apology
After apathetic apology,
She felt stunted
Broken
Her mind, filled with the echoes of
"Cannot" and "Will not."
Biting words, not shouted but sown,
percolated through her every silence.
She had said the words,
not knowing why
Regret blossomed instantaneously
She had given him permission…
but why would he bite?
23 years of age
She works, and she plays
Oh, she plays!
Controller in hand
The Sims is the plan -
A boring play-style, really,
Fulfilling her what if's
Of marital bliss,
What a twist
Cascades of pixelated children
"I think I'll name her
Quellcrist."
They met in her family's
Restaurant kitchen
She, an apprentice chef
She, an absolute gem
She, who would become
The squish
Kindness and honesty
Go such a long way,
It's a pity
It did not happen sooner
The first time
She called her a friend,
She had beamed -
Her eyes truly did
sparkle that day
The decision was made:
This is her person
No spell so emphatic,
No truth quite as static
Because friendship
Truly is magic
24 and a few more
The woman has grown -
Even flown,
In her new normal
Gatherings of friends
Music and dancing
A strange, drunken costume party
At last!
A soirée in the real -
A gentle joy she dared to steal
The woman and the girl
are one in the same
She finds joy in wall rainbows
And loves the rain
She makes crockery
Imprinted with dinosaurs,
She likes shopping at thrift stores
For clothing that screams whimsy -
Beaded necklaces,
dark velvet
And cute embroidery
Videogames
With quests primeval,
And moral threads
That aren’t so medieval
They whisper,
“There’s more to the journey
than simply good vs evil.”
The void still exists
That gaping abyss
Cold as glass,
But weightless -
It does not pull now
She can stare all she likes now
It's all but a fascinating sight
There is no question
Whether to stay,
Or to go
11 was such a long time ago
28 is here
He is still there -
Not far,
But not near
He calls and whistles
Down the street
But she's slipped her collar
There will be no retreat
She is no pet
A stray, one would say
An escapee
From his menagerie
The "favourite" she may have been,
But she had simply
Survived the regime
Note: This poem explores themes of childhood trauma, emotional abuse, and ****** assault. It follows a personal journey through memory, pain, and eventual healing. Please read with care.
