All I could feel was the heat of his sin shaming my body.
That was when I lost my halo.
I’d been a good girl; compassionate and sensitive. He’d seen these as weaknesses there for the exploitation.
He put his arm on my shoulders, close enough to singe the wings. I would now never ascend. This sin, these murderous thoughts dancing in my head would become my albatross.
I feel its weight even years later. I feel the blush of shame running through me in remembrance. I shrink inside the wool blanket of my skin. I want to leave the touch behind; but more than that. I want to leave behind all of the soiled, dirty places marked by his touch.
I have chosen numbness, but his touch is still present. I would’ve chosen deafness, but that his words would still echo, rambling around inside my brain, even as now I hear him joking of emotion and mocking humanity.
In boldness to remember what angels sought to repress, a tear has swallowed my soul. I am fractured and broken. The path to humanity is lost now.