Mercy

I sit in my chair quietly,
hugging my legs to my chest.
You get up and walk toward me.
I see your bloodshot eyes and watch you as you stumble.
I smell the alcohol linger off your shirt and your breathe.
God, you reek!

As you stand in front of me,
you grab my arm tightly,
hitting a pressure point, and leaving me weak.
I kick and scream as you drag me into
 your house and throw me into your bedroom,
closing the door and locking it,
lighting up a cigarette.

I stand there and realize what's going to happen next.
I feel a breeze and look to see the window open. 
I make a run for it.

As I'm halfway out, 
you grab me by my waist and pull me by my hair.
I scream as I fall to the floor.
I feel blood run down my neck and spine from the hair you pulled out.
You pick me up and throw me on the bed.

I feel the hair from your beard on my cheeks,
tears run down my face as you breathe out cigarette 
smoke in my face.

I feel you figet with the button on my jeans, pulling them off.
I feel your fingers do things inside of me.
As you put your legs on either side of me, I see
 your gun on the side of your hip.

As you pull my shirt off and rape me even more,
you get off the bed to undo your belt buckle.
I look around and figure out how to get out.
On your dresser, I see your large, skinning knife you use for hunting.

As you get on top of me once more,
you do more dirty things,
sinning your soul.
When you're at your weakest,
I push you off and grab the knife.

Before you could even beg for mercy,
I thrust the knife square in your chest.
Fifty,fucking, times.

As I watch you die and bleed,
I carve a giant C into your stomach.
C;for Chloe.
Then I stand up, and drop the knife,
as you lay dying.

Hmmm.. well this was an interesting read! I think this is a little bit more of a story, but in stanzas. Then again, I'm not too reliable in the poetry area. XD Onto the review! Just a few nitpicks I caught:

God, you reek.!

Two things. First, take out the period. Second, hmmm. I don't think it fits well with your poem. Hmmmm.

I sit in my chair quietly,
hugging my legs to my chest.

This comma should belong there, BUT usually when I write poetry I forget about punctuation and all that. XD I might take it out.

You drag me into your house and throw me into your bedroom

I might use "in" instead of into.

Fifty,fucking, times.

Space between the fifty and the fucking and take out the second comma.

Well! I thought this was pretty good. There's a lot of color in this piece, I'm pretty sure , so keep writing!
winie*

Layla! You got me at my knees...

Okay, no more Eric Clapton references.

This poem has a weak start! Because this a poem that is essentially about rape, it has a kind of innate storyline... so start it, not when she's watching him but when he's grabbing her and throwing her into the room. That way, it'll seem more interesting, plus it has an added bonus of not making us wonder why she is just watching him and not trying to escape while he seems to be distracted.

Your last two stanzas also seem weak and allow for some loopholes. Why doesn't she threaten him with the knife when she grabs it? It seems a little odd that she would let him rape her more when she has a huge knife in her hands. I know I wouldn't want him to touch me again... I would be screaming and waving that knife in front of him and backing up to the door as quickly as I could.

I don't know! Maybe I'm thinking too hard. But I would suggest making it make more sense!

Otherwise, I think it was a punchy, dramatic poem with a lot of intrigue... especially in the middle parts.

Hahaha Layla by Eric Clapton is on my iPod:-P. So I know what you're talkig about, Snoink