The Allure of Fire
I am a sick man…I am a spiteful man. However I was not always this way. There have been many awful events in my short and miserable life, yet one stands out. This memory is a square among circles, the burnt tree within a healthy forest and a weed that has sprung up among a patch of flowers. Yes, no matter how hard I try this atrocity haunts my mind. It is as if my mind is a theater and this event is the only movie its’ showing.
It was my birthday, my sixteenth birthday and I was going to the city with my five best friends This was a night we had been planning since we were ten, this coming of age celebration. Believing that we were old enough, my parents let us take a train into the city to go to what they thought was a simple girls night out, a Boradway show, dinner and shopping. Oh how wrong they were. As soon as we arrived into the city we changed from innocent little caterpillars into devious butterflies.
Lace and leather clad our tiny little bodies and makeup caked our blemish-free faces. I felt untouchable and invincible, everything was perfect. We strutted with confidence past the bouncer and sauntered into the club like we owned the place. The smell of smoke, sweat and sex filled the strobe lit room and the mass of people on the dance floor moved to the beat of the deafening electronic music. I was nervous and intimidated but for the sake of my friends I acted fearless.
Like a fierce lioness, I sashayed into the horde of drunk, high and horny dancers and started to swing my hips to the music. I then haughtily beckoned for my friends to join me on the dancer floor. Some came and some didn’t but right then I couldn’t have cared less because I was dancing with him. While we were dancing he whispered into my ear,”Well you are a pretty little girl aren’t ya” Feeling far to confidant I replied,”I am far from being a little girl”. He smirked, “Prove it.”
I should have heeded the skeptical, concerned and worried looks my friends threw at me but I was too consumed in the movement. He took my hand and weaved us through the crowd of clubbers, towards the alley behind the building away from any witnesses. The cold air slapped my face and he shut the door behind us. The stranger loomed in front of my smaller body, his strong arms wrapped around frame and pulled me closer. Everything was fine until his fingers began to dance up my skirt, I remember trying to swat them away yet with no avail. I told him he was taking it to far but he did not care. My fists banged against his chest but he only pinned them against the wall behind us.
“Please, please don’t do this!” I choked out between my hysterical sobs, the tears rolled down my face. He snickered and whispered with malice,
“You asked for this”
I never asked for that. I never asked to feel so violated. I never asked to experience that level of pain. I never asked to feel so irrevocably dirty no matter how many times I scrubbed my skin raw. I never asked for him to haunt my nightmares and give me a permanent sense of fear and paranoia. No, I never asked for any of that.
I am not the same person I was before the attack. I am but an empty shell of the girl I once was. He stole more than just my virginity, he stole my happiness, my confidence and my innocence. I was a brave butterfly, however I flew to close to the flame and got burnt, severely burnt. Now, I am just a sick man, a very spiteful man.
so that was my story, please be critical and tell me what you think!?
