He was waiting for me,

On a warm night, little did I know as I hit the flush,

That once I unlocked that door,

He would pounce like a panther,

Push me in to the cubicle, bash my head against the wall,

I thought I’d scream, but no sound came,

He stole more than just my body,

My senses were temporarily misplaced too,

All I felt was pain, that accent still terrifies me to the core now,

But it was never really over, it continued in my head,

But back with my friends, it was as if nothing abnormal had happened at all,

As if I had just been to touch up my make up,

Pushing back the pain and covering up my bruises with my dress,

Blaming my wet eyes on the smoke around us,

Yet I could still feel his stare from across the room,

Running was not an option here,

I could not bring myself to ruin the night for my friends,

Nor the life of his operation bound son, nor bare the grief of my parents’ worst fears coming true,

But I am still in ruins over whether he did it to anyone else and that guilt will always consume me,

For he did what his society had taught him and used me as an object that he felt he had the right to despite my protestations

So I tried to stay away but somehow he always came my way,

So I placed my feet on to another solid land,

And he is still there digging in the sand,

I found freedom and I refuse to let the fear of what him or another could do let me live only in the light of day.

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