#124 – Woman Fifty One

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She accepted his invitation into the room,
hidden away from the party,
because she liked him.

He closed the door,
threw her on the bed with such
force, her body bounced into the air.
In an instant his heavy body had pinned her down,
his hands groping, pulling, pushing.

She fought back punching, kicking, scratching.

Screaming.
No, this is a silent memory.

She found the door, but his
ugly hands seized her again,
slammed her against the wall.

The battle continued until her small
body escaped his release, fled down the steps
and out the front door.

Through tears, she watched the green beads from
her grandmother’s necklace shatter across
the sidewalk.

She clutched her throat, her chest, her belly
– held her body tight to prevent
her insides from breaking across
the hard concrete.

At school on Monday morning,
the popular girls whispered that
she had made it all up.

She stopped telling her story.

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