Sunday, October 26, 2008

Dead Heart

On the long road through the desert, we stopped each night to camp. We slept in swags, scattered around the dying embers of a fire. I laid mine away from the others, all men, so the cacophony of snores wouldn't be so loud. I wore all my clothes, including a sheepskin jacket.
I was tired, a little stoned, and very cold. One of the men stayed up until everyone else had gone to sleep. He crept over to me in the dark and murmured, “You’re cold. I’ll warm you up”.
I turned my back to him and he crawled into the swag. I thought about the others waking to see him lying next to me. Then I figured it wouldn’t make any difference. They already believed I'd slept with him. They were wrong. He was short, sun-dried and at least fifteen years older than me. I hadn't given him a second thought.
His breath shortened against the side of my neck. It smelled of stale beer.
At least, it was warmer with him lying against me. I thought about the boyfriend I’d broken up with because he didn’t want me to do this journey.
I felt the man’s hands slide under my clothes. “I think I’m falling in love with you,” he whispered.

I didn’t turn around. I stared into the night. “Yeah. Me too," I said flatly.
He pulled my pants down to penetrate me from behind, then his calloused fingers clawed my still-covered breasts. I lay still as he moved against me. It’s too late now, I told myself. I’m already fucked.
I was very young then. I forgave myself long ago. But I've never let myself become anybody's victim again.

3 comments:

Anonymous said...

You're not alone in these things, many of us have been in a "shit, it's too late" circumstance. Understanding and forgiving ourselves comes from all our experiences. inspiration is. Dark or otherwise. I still get angry from shit that, whether i was too naive, numb or scared to avoid, happened... it is potent anger! and now I know that making great art is the best revenge, fun !!!!!!! :)k

Anonymous said...

Its good to discuss these experiences and expel them somehow from hurting us more. Its the only way to help ourselves and be able to live with these memories. Stuff like that lives with my past as well and it does feel good to hear others' emotional reverberations of events in their lives on a parallel to my own. Somehow there is feeling of strength in numbers and that we are not alone in this.

smlacyart said...

This post gives me strength.
Thank you.