Sissy's Boyfriend.

Mom entrusted you to watch for the day. My sister was in Hawaii and you'd just turned twenty. I always thought you were handsome but Jesus, I was only thirteen. Your skin reminded me of milk and your eyes were like a deep amber fire. so pretty...

Yet, your hands crawled about me like I was a prized jewel found deep in the heart of a shipwreck. I said stop but maybe I wasn't loud enough; maybe I was too drunk and drugged up that my words that were in my skull were floating around aimlessly, getting tangled behind my teeth.

My hearing was fading in and out; occasionally taking time to pick out words that had been rotting in your mind. I remembered a few at least but not enough to know anything.

Angel.

Sweetheart.

Princess.

Darling.

Slut.

Whore.

Bitch.

Then your touch got greedy, lustful at that. Taking to much at once. Taking what wasn't fucking yours; something I didn't want to give away for free.

It's all a blur after that but I remember that you told me to keep crying; then you hit me.

Twice.

Twice.

Twice.

Twice.

Twice.

Twice.

Twice.

Twice.

Twice.

Twice.

If you tell anyone what I did I'll kill you. You understand that? You'll be in more trouble than I will.

Yes I promise Matt but the problem is I don't really remember.

Then when you were done you buttoned your shorts, covered me in blakets, and told me you were sorry.

But honestly Matt, were you sorry? You weren't sorry the second time, the third, the fourth, the fifth (especially the fifth), sixth, seventh, eighth time you did it? You cried like a baby when you got caught. Had your face buried in your hand and you cried like a stupid fucking man child.

i didn't hurt her. it was consensual. she wanted it.

Rememeber I got pregnant. Gave birth to a stillborn? How the doctors said she would be taken away from me. Told me she was okay? That baby didn't fucking live. She died that day. Everybody told me for years she was alive. She wasn't she was dead. Another family gave birth to a baby girl, told 'em they should name her Monarch.

And they did.

Not because they knew me; not because they knew my amazing story.

Maybe that's the worst part.

For years, I let myself believe that she was somewhere out there. Living her beautiful life.

But she didn't grow up.

Matt got to keep his story though.

So, Matt, I don't remember everything you did to me.

But, I remember how it hurt.

How it stung.

I remember my baby girl though.

Monarch.

Chew that up and spit it out handsome.

You said I wanted it, I was thirteen, Matt.

Thirt-fucking-teen.

I know you said your were sorry; but I'll spend the rest of my sick life knowing your weren't.