unwanted attention

Beauty is a curse.

It attracts unwanted attention.

A high pitched whistle rings in my ear, I continue to walk.

Heavy footsteps trail behind me.

A wave of nausea comes over me as

I turn around to confront him, but I feel

A rough hand slither around my waist, constricting me.

Uninvited hands trace my lips.

I never met his eyes.

Hot toxic breath forces its way down my neck.

His hands might as well have nailed me to a cross as he pinned down my naked body.

Gasps of pain escape in place of pleasure.

Tears slide down my cheeks as I give up.

In that act,

I had no say, 

I forced myself to endure it. 

I will never wear that dress again.

I will never go down that street again.

Nothing will ever compare to the amount of fear I experienced 

down that street, 

in that dress, 

with no escape.