Innocent

I can still taste the tears; the blood. I can still feel your hot breath in my ear. Your words still haunt me at night. "Worthless" "Disgusting" "Fat" "Ugly", you repeated as you forced yourself deeper inside of me. "You deserve this", right before you put your cigarette out on my skin. I can still smell the sent of my own burning flesh. Was I not screaming loud enough as you punched bruises wherever your fists landed? Was the blood gushing from my body, the blood you continued to spill, not a good enough reason to stop? Why me? What did I do to possibly deserve the months of disgust I felt about myself? The weeks of pushing people away and not letting anyone touch me because it physically hurt? Please tell me how the fuck that was my fault. I hope you rot in prison!