It was late summer. August, to be exact. In half a week, Jamie would go back to school and see all of her friends. She wouldn't have to see her mom for six-and-a-half hours a day, and she would get to go and write stories with her friends in Mrs. Casey's class. A lot of second grade teachers were mean, but not Mrs. Casey. She was the only teacher who was interested in what Jamie had to write. Jamie liked Mrs. Casey.
The humid air in the trailer surrounded her like a warm blanket, even though she was in her pajamas. Her mommy didn't like to get her new clothes, so she wore a tanktop from two years ago and a pair of briefs.
Maybe if I would have worn real clothes.
It was very late at night, and Jamie was writing in her diary. She was making a story about a Princess who lived in a castle and a Prince who came to get her, and they both lived happily ever after.
If only I had gone to bed earlier...
Jamie liked happy endings. They made her think about something else other than what was happening around her mommy's house. She knew that happy endings only came in fairy tales, and not the real world. The real world was too sad and evil for happy endings. There were a lot of bad people in the world. Most of them were her mom's boyfriends though.
I wish to hell I was stronger.
The clock in the kitchen chimed 11 and Al kicked open the door. I just looked up at him innocently, and saw that he was staring at me. He was wearing white briefs and no shirt, and he was breathing heavily. I had never seen a man look at me like that before. It scared me.
Perhaps if I had kicked him right then.
He had taken off all of my clothes and he was all gross and sweaty. His breath smelled like beer and cigarettes. My back was pinned against the bed and I had begun to cry. "Shut up." He said, slapping me. So I did.
Maybe I should have screamed louder.
It wasn't long before he was on top of me gripping my hair. Suddenly I felt a major disturbance, and realized he was inside of me. Every once in a while I would mumble one of two words: 'Please' or 'Stop.' Sometimes together, like 'Please stop,' or 'Stop please.' It hurt so badly. I was so scared. Couldn't he see that he was hurting me? What did I do to him? Why was he doing that to me...?
And with that, a nightmare broke free of its boundries, parading around the mind of its currently awake inhabitant. Physical pain dies away, but emotional scars are there forever.