This is me:Broken and Damaged

By: R. Smith

Digging deep into the person I use to be is a hard place to dig but it’s a necessary place so I can finally understand why I am the way I am.

I’m a girl that’s lost, damaged, and confused.

A damaged girl is a girl who should never be left along to make her own choices, because we always choose wrong.

My first encounter with anything sexual wasn’t by choice but by force. I was walking to my aunt’s house form a party which was literally around the corner, a street I had walked hundreds of times before.

Leaving the party that was sure to be labeled “the party that kicked the summer off right”.

I wore a red top, black shorts, black socks, and red Keds. It was late probably around two a.m. or so I wasn’t supposed to be by myself but since my cousin were a few years older than me they had other plans so I walked back alone.

Singing a few songs from the party to make my walk a little quicker, I barely noticed anyone step in my path a few houses ahead of me.

“Hey, Bella”

Scared as fuck; because it was dark so I could barely see who was saying my name and how they knew my name.

“It’s me Mike”

“Oh hey Mike what you doing?”

Mike was a friend of the family that I had known damn near all the thirteen years of my life.

“Nothing, just chilling outside. What you doing this way?”

“Visiting my aunt”

“This late?”

“No I just left a party; I’m headed back to her house now. I’m staying there for the weekend”

“You look cute Bel”

Uncomfortable at this point because he had a beer in his hand and smelled like an entire liquor store, complimenting a child seeing how he was damn near thirty plus.

“Thank you, I’ll see you around I have to get inside”

He watched me walk around him, not breaking focus on me as I walked not even two steps ahead of him.

That’s when I felt his hand grab me from behind covering my mouth and the other around my waist dragging me backwards with enough force to where my feet barley touched the ground just scraping my heels along the concrete.

Dragging me on the side of the house he had come out of just a few minutes earlier he threw me to the ground, climbing right on top of me but not without a fight.

To scared to scream like my voice was no longer there I fought with all I had in me, he laughed with his breath damn near knocking me out it was strong from all of the alcohol he had consumed.

It was funny to him how hard I tried to fight him off knowing I was no match for what he had planned for me.

Forcing his leg in between mines parting them with no force at all he unbuttoned my shorts in one swift move placing his hands in my panties.

Hearing about rape was different, this felt like an out of body experience I was living.

He smiled as he seen the fear in my eyes, sliding my shorts down my leg only to my knees, he went for my panties next by then I was almost out of fight from trying so hard to get him off of me.

I just started praying to God that this was over quick and he didn’t kill me afterwards to keep me quiet, tears just ran from my eyes down into my ears but not one sound escaped my mouth until someone came out of the house call his name.


“Mike where you at?”

Facing me “Don’t you say shit”


The man calling his name had come off the porch by this point looking for Mike, when he walked up on the both of us.

Stopping in his tracks realizing what was going on, he grabbed Mike off of me and told me to run and not look back.

While pulling my clothes up running I heard him say “Not again, you doing this shit again. Nigga you sick and you gotta get the fuck away from here right now; get your shit and go.

He had done this before, he had hurt someone else’s child, taken someone else’s innocence, violated a child that had trusted him?

Making it to my aunt’s house in less than a minute flat, I took the longest shower I had ever taken in my life and cried while scrubbing my body clean.

Thank you God

Thank you God

Thank you God

After that day I didn’t tell anyone nor did I try to think about it, but I never was the same person after that.

Sex has never been something that was pleasurable for me; it was always associated with force, anger, control, and pressures to do something I wasn’t ready for.

Also By R. Smith

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