coming to terms...

I am 11, and at that age where there’s no mountain too high and I look back on make belief with such distaste. It’s a school night- a rare treat. Mom has taken us to the game arcade, its bustling with activity, everyone is so caught up in play. I trail behind my papa; I want my space. My family is three steps ahead of me, barely cause for worry, I’ll find them later. As I glance about, the crowd clears, only two scruffy grown men walking in my direction. Arms shoulder to shoulder they casually stride towards me, I feel uneasy, but to them I am invisible. His body brushes pass my tiny frame, he swings his hand down and digs his fingers into my skin and I shrink back in shock. I turned to see a smirk on his face, I’m powerless, as I force a glare. They continue on proud, accomplished slapping their backs as they walk out of sight. I am still there, where it happened in the same T-shirt that i wore that night. I remember what I wore, where i stood. The lost of control, feeling so alone; daddy’s hand beyond my reach. Did what just happen amount to anything? Do I tell daddy, would he believe me? What will he think? It lasted but only for a moment, he only touched me. I have no evidence but my brokeness. That moment, frozen in a time, which I relive from time to time.


I've waited a long time for this...