Mom was out tending the garden while daddy was at work.  Sister, she had gone outside to play while my step-brother had entertained his friends in another room.  Me, well I just sat in the bedroom and watched television.  It was quiet where I was and I knew that I would be left alone . . . until he came in.  His family is well known and respected in the community.  He was older and all the younger kids looked up to him as someone powerful. So, I thought nothing of it while I sat there on the bed, in my own little world as he came over to sit down beside me. 

Not saying a word, he reached over and touched my leg as if it belonged to him.  The blue-jean cutoff shorts that mom gave me to wear may have been what tempted him that day.  He slowly put his hand around my shoulder; as he pulled me down onto the bed and asked “is this ok?”  I stared back with uncertainty, confused, and replied, “What do you mean? What are you going to do?”  “I just want to lie on top of you, that’s all”, he responded. Being sheltered and only thirteen at the time, I didn’t quite know what laying down on someone actually entailed.  I’ve never seen anyone lay on top of another person. As he began to lay on me, I could feel my heart beat more than it should as the pressure of his weight held me down. 

 The moans came from his mouth as he rubbed his body against mine; then he stopped.  “Can I pull your shorts down a little?  Not all the way, just a little bit”, he said in a calm soothing voice. Laying there pinned under him, I could only say “ok.” He pulled my shorts down to my knees and then pulled his down pass his knees.  Why isn’t anyone coming in to check on me?  Is this supposed to happen?  Will I get in trouble if someone comes in? All the thoughts that run the mind of innocence. 

 “It” was hard and rubbing against me. His body movements kept getting faster and faster as a tear slowly made its way from the corner of my eye. He stopped, only to ask “Is it ok if I wet on you?” while heavily breathing into my ear.  Feeling as though I’ve just died; I didn’t have to say anything as I felt the slow stream of “wetness” running between my thighs. He got up; pulled up his pants and said “Don’t you ever tell anyone what we did.  This is our secret.  They won’t believe you anyway.”  An hour had passed as I laid on the bed in silence with my jean cut-off shorts that mom gave me to wear; still, around my knees trying to make sense as to what just happened. And as the days, months and years go by, I still sat in silence and often find myself asking:

Why did you touch me
The way you did;
Laying on me,
Feeling on me,
Spilling on me?

Why did you touch me
The way you did;
Laying confused, used,
Thirteen and abused?
Why did you touch me
The way you did?
Years pass,
Memories . . .
They last.
 

© Dahveed 2007

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