Little Girl , Big Fight

As the door closed, tears made their way from her eyes to her cheeks, her heart was thumping in her chest crazily like it would jump out any moment, it felt heavy, her throat went dry, she wanted to scream, cry, but who would believe her ?

A 9 year old girl, seemed someone who would make up stories , right ? That's what everyone believed. That's what her mother always said : "Don't say such wrong things about your Father , he loves you". But he didn't , he wasn't even her father , he never was and never will be.

She pulled her knees to her chest , hid her face in them. her room felt colder now , the air around her felt heavier , like it had soaked in the disgust he left behind.

She could still feel where he touched her , she hated it , the way his hands felt on her skin , the way his hands went there were they should not. She learned about "Good Touch" and "Bad Touch" , she knew this kind of touch can never be good , there is no way she mistook this kind of touch , after all she was a girl indeed and its true when they they say girls have instincts.

She can never forget how his hands roamed around her body , especially around private parts , how he squeezed her chest , how he touched the area from she do popo. She hated that she couldn't wipe that feeling off , it stayed , always , like a saint on her skin,

She didn't want to sleep , she never really slept at night , she just pretended , pretended that she was in deep sleep , like she didn't felt his breath on her neck , or his hands crawling on her skin. sometimes she bit herself to stop herself from screaming , her body would stay frozen like a statue until he left.

Today was not the first time he did that , and it may not be the last.

She stared at the wall , her eyes puffy but dry , even tears had started to give up on her. she was exhausted but sleep never came easily , not until he was far away , deep in his own sleep , snoring like nothing ever happened , like she was just a toy he played with and forgot , maybe she actually was , a toy for his despicable act.

She remembered when it started , it was small back then , a hug that lasted too long , a hand brushing where it shouldn't have , a look that made her skin crawl. she didn't knew what it meant at first , she thought that maybe it was just her being wrong , she thought maybe she was bad , maybe it was her fault.

She didn't even tell anybody at first , but than it got worse , he started coming more often , he would wait till her mom fell asleep , that's when he would sneak into her room , always slow , always quiet , like a thief. and the worst part ? He would smile in the morning , make her breakfast , kiss her Mom's cheek and call her a "Good Girl" , like he didn't just touched her the night before.

She hated the mornings , not because of school like an average kid , not because of anything else , but because she had to act like nothing happened , she had to sit at the same table as him , she had to see him , smile at him , and listen to he Mom say : "You are lucky to have such a caring Step-Father" , she didn't hated the word step , she hated the word Father.

And caring?

He was worse than a monster.

She had her own room , people thought that it was a good thing , privacy , independence , there were wrong as it only gave him space , a door that he could close behind him , walls that could trap her screams.

But she she never screamed ,

she couldn't ,

because if she did , who would come ? Her Mom ? The one who always believed him , the one who told her , "You must be dreaming" , the first time she tried to tell her , the one who looked in her eyes and said : "Don't ruin our family over your imagination".

She stopped trying , and instead she started pretending.

Every night became the same , dinner , than dishes , Mom would laugh at one of his dumb dad jokes , she would sit quietly , picking at her food , than bedtime , than silence , than fear , as the clock started ticking , as the bedtime came near , she started to unravel. Sometimes she would hold her breath so long her chest would hurt , she thought maybe if she stopped breathing he would stop too. He never did , his hands always found her.

She felt sad all the time now , even when nothing was happening , even at school , even when someone told a funny joke , even when the sun was out and the sky was blue , she felt like a shadow walking through the world. One day , a teacher asked her why looked so tired. She wanted to say because I never sleep , because my nights are filled with monsters , but instead she smiled and said , "Just had trouble sleeping". "Oh , yes , yes , I remember your Father telling me that he convinced your Mom to give you your separate room , he wants you to learn independency , It must be nice growing up while having such Father like him around" , her teacher said , being unaware about the true character of her so-called Father.

Afterall it was because of him that she became so quiet , so decent , so independent , so mature , she became a women at this age because of. The teacher just smiled and gave her a sticker , like that could help her. She didn't blame the teacher , how would she even know ? Nobody could see the bruises on her heart , even though they were more big than the bruises on her body , they were hidden too. He was careful , he knew what he was doing , he made sure nothing showed where people could see.

Except that one time, there was a bruise on her thigh , she didn't notice it until P.E class. She changed in the corner quickly , pulling her shorts down before anyone could see. She kept her legs close the whole time pretending she had a cramp. She was good at pretending now , like a professional actress.

Even her neighbour , the old lady who always smiled at her didn't knew , though sometimes she wondered. The lady looked at her differently one morning , gave her an extra cookie , asked her : "Are you okay sweetheart ?" She nodded , as always , but inside , she wanted to scream , NO! I am not! I am scared all the time! I want someone to see me , really see me!

But nobody did , she didn't had any friends anymore either. They said she was weird , too quiet , always drawing scary things in her notebook , one girl even said her eyes look haunted , she didn't even knew what that meant. But maybe it was true , she didn't felt like a normal kid.

She felt like something broken , something cracked. Like her old doll , the one she hugged every night , its button eye missing , one leg torn , but she loved it still , because it was broken like her. The doll had seen it all , she would hold it tightly , whispering the things she could not tell anyone else. Like a secret friend , she would say : "Maybe one day , someone will come , maybe one day , someone will believe me".

The thing was , she didn't knew which day that would be. She just hoped , hope was all she had beside that old doll.

One night , as she lay there , pretending again , she thought about running away , just grabbing her doll running away. But where would she go ? Who would take her in ? Would they believe her ? Or would they send her back ? The thought made her stomach hurt , She stayed , like always.

But something was changing , she could feel it , a little flame inside her , small , weak , but alive , it whispered to her , "You are not wrong , he is , you are not dirty , he is , you will not stay sad forever".

She started writing letter she never sent , letters to her future self , she would write things like , "Dear me , I hope you are safe , i hope you are free , I hope you can sleep with all the lights off again". She kept them under her mattress of her bed , every time he left her room , she would add one more letter. The gave her strength , even if only a little.

And one night , she heard something , a sound , a creak , but not from her door , from the wall next to it. The shared wall with the neighbour's house , she wondered if they heard , if anyone finally heard.

She held her breath and whispered , "Please ...... someone ......... see ME".