raspberry

I try to collect myself after the night's events, but everything hurts and the scenes keep replaying in my head. My dad fucking me. His fist slamming into my mouth several times and splitting my lip open wide. Me, getting my head banged against the wall every time I made a sound. I look in the mirror at my swelling lip and the bruises already forming. My hair looks like bleached straw. I pull a pair of sweatpants over my legs that bled from his fingernails grabbing my thighs. I push my arms through the sleeves of a hoodie and decide to go find Malcom, my dad's business partner who's always nice to me. I unlock my window and slide it up slowly, hoping he can't hear it from his room downstairs where I can hear him hitting my mom. I put one leg through and reach for the tall oak tree. I end up hanging upside down by one leg and almost plant myself head first into the flowerbed but I manage to perch myself in the tree and leave the window cracked for my return. I run down the street as fast as I can, the tears starting as I think back once again on the hell my father brought upon me. Malcom lives just a couple blocks away and the dark neighborhood scares me into running faster than usual. I reach his door relatively quickly and knock. His lights are on, which is a good sign. I hear footsteps, and then the door opens. Malcom looks confused. "Raspberry?" I cry harder, and my lip starts bleeding again. He touches my shoulder and guides me to his couch, where he gives me a mug of peppermint tea. "What happened, what are you doing here?" I sip at the tea and only manage to make little whimpering sounds. He frowns and sits in a chair. I finally find the words and they fall out of my mouth. "My dad made me have sex with him and he beat me up." I could have made that sentence a lot more professional but I sound like a whiny child. He doesn't seem to notice, and takes my hand. The other one shakes so violently I spill tea on my sweats and burn my thigh. He takes the cup from me and leads me down the hall to a bedroom, which I'm assuming is his. He closes the door and uses a key to lock it, meaning I can't get out. I start to say something but he wraps his arms around my waist and kisses me. It hurts, and I resist. He bites at me to get me to open up my mouth. I squeak, my lip tearing a little more. He thrusts his tongue past it and runs his hands all along my body. I struggle, trying to get away from him, but I know there's nowhere to go. He grips my wrists and I consider kneeing him in the crotch, overpowering him, and torturing him until he gives me the key, or just breaking the door down, but I just stand still, too afraid and sad. He pulls me over to the bed, where he undresses me slowly. I can see his boner through his pants when he unclips my bra and throws it on the floor. He quickly unbuckles his belt and pushes his pants down to his ankles. I lie shaking on the comforter as he lubes up, stroking his disgusting penis with great care and groaning throatily, like a wild animal. When he seems satisfied with the state of his dick, he pins me against the bed as if I have somewhere to go, and forces himself into me. It's like a fire, like he struck a match and now my whole pelvis is on fire. It burns and stings and aches all at once. I can hear myself start crying again, but his loud moans overpower my misery, and I just close my eyes. 

Then it's over, and he's asleep. I hurriedly dress myself and sneak the key out of his pocket, creep over to the door and unlock it, then flee from the house where I thought I was safest.