THE PAIN

This is a short story I wrote. Please don’t hesitate to leave any feedback.

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Painting by Luiz Anderson 

I’m accustomed to forging walls around my true feelings and smiling through pain that the idea of actually discussing pain had become alien to me. It’s just so much easier to pretend. As he scrutinized every single bruise and scar on my arms I already felt so naked. I knew that his loving would uncover everything that I had supressed. My emotions and my pains will be exposed, rendering my faltering façade futile. I heard a faint raspy “oh my God” escape his lips. My blouse was now off and he could see it all. I hadn’t meant to hurt myself.

I was six when it happened. When she had decided it was okay. I didn’t know what was happening. I tried to stop it but I couldn’t. Laughed whilst she molested my petite and underdeveloped body. At first I thought I could reason with her. I mean, if I did all my homework and cleaned my room… I hadn’t yet realised that some people are just evil. My childish nature meant that I was compelled to see the good in people no matter what. I was powerless to stop it. For two years, I just had to take the pain. I carried that pain everywhere I went. My own aunt had hurt me. I grew up not knowing who to trust or who to love.

I thought it was all over. My aunt had been put in a mental home, a little too late. But it happened again and again. I grew up thinking that sex was all I was good for. And it was only at fourteen that I fully understood what rape was and how many times that I’d been taken advantage of and that’s when something inside me broke. I wasn’t good enough. That’s why they hurt me. I had to let out the pain somehow. People couldn’t see this version of me. So, I took a knife. Some days it was a pen or a blade. Other days it was a match or a lighter. But whatever happened I had to make the physical pain outweigh the emotional pain. Who could hurt me now? I had it covered. I was hurting myself more than anyone ever had. I didn’t ever have to say “Please don’t hurt me” which is what I whimpered as he kissed my scars.

He stopped. I’d messed it up, hadn’t I?

“Grace. I could never ever hurt you.”

Had he not realised that everyone who wasn’t supposed to hurt me had done exactly that? What good were his words? But he continued to kiss ever scar with passion, drowning out my thoughts. I was completely overtaken by pleasure until he said it.

“I love you and I will never hurt you.”

It’s been a year since he said that. A year since I was stupid enough to let him in. Sure, he never psychically hurt me but he broke my heart. I thought I’d never have to say it again but please, please… Don’t hurt me.

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