The Whitewashed Wall

My mind failed me
Dry hopelessness evident in my widened eyes
My limbs failed me
Frozen and unmoving
I failed myself
As another took control over me
Trailing trails of electric touches over my tender flesh
Because that’s all I was at the end of it
Meat to be used for another’s pleasure

Empty words of insincere comfort were muttered
“There now, be quiet, it’s alright”
As his hands explored
Taking advantage of my lack of response
The smell of cigarettes was heavy on him
As he leaned in, burying his face in the nook of my neck

“Stop,” I croaked
That only seemed to encourage him
I saw the wanton lust burning in his eyes
As I felt him against me
“No.”
I managed to say louder
The words were of no consequence
With a sudden forceful move
I was slammed against the rough whitewashed wall
All I saw was the wall
But what I felt was so much more
Violated, for one
And pain, as it is ripped through my body

My hands raked at the whitewashed wall
My nails broke and bled
My laboured breathing was loud
But his guttural moans of pleasure were louder
Each thrust sending an intense wave of pain through me
I whimpered against the whitewashed wall
My hands curled into fists
My nails bit into the skin of my palm
His grip on me was unyielding
As his hand dug into my side
And held my face against the whitewashed wall

And then suddenly, it was over
And I realised it was only him holding me up
For as he left
I crumpled to the ground
A dull ache between my legs
Curling up as the tears welled
Staring at the smears of red on the whitewashed wall
Echoing the same words again and again
But only when it didn’t matter anymore.

I live
But not truly
I live
But as an empty vessel
For that was the day I died
In front of the whitewashed wall.