The eyes of an empty shell

She was haunted by the memories, he'd left rifts and tears in her very essence. She could still feel his spindly fingers tresspassing greedly over skin, plunging clumsly into nooks and crannys that she had not the strength to defend. He had nbeen like a wild animal carelessly shredding through her attire. It was a cruel and merciless act that replayed through her mind day after day in terrifying detail. She hadn't left the house since, hadn't left her room, just curled up on the corner of her bed willingly confining herself to the non-existant comfort within four walls. Her mind consumed by his heartless smile, three months later and still she could smell his overpowering scent in the very pores of her skin. Desperatly she scrubbed at her flesh, her dirty tainted flesh that would never be free of that demonic spirit that lingered in her nightmares.

 

She wasn't really there anymore, he'd made sure of that, a mere shell of a human being, to afraid to live again. He had taken everything from her, stolen her innocence without a warning and ran away with her pride. Left her partially naked form to weep on the pavement , broken and alone, painted from head to toe in crimson and white. She'd lain there for hours, tears streaming out of bloodshot eyes. Almost melded into the pavement by panic alone.

 

She had been found a few hours after the incident had occured, her assiliant nowhere in sight. She'd been afraid of the kind hands, lashed out, screamed and ran home. Her sweet and unjudging mind suddenly warped and corrupted, he had robbed her of her ablity to trust , to believe in anyone and now the darkness had become her only comfort.

 

The very walls of her bedroom projecting incarnations of his fleshy weapon, stirring her shaking from her sleep. To afraid to even speak , merely stuttering out words that soon succum to tears. She was his angel, a delicate doll that wandered into his path and he had her. Not willingly the scratches and bruises were sign enough of that, her mouth filled with blood from the strength of his frusts, her legs and arm bathed in scratches. His eager  hands had been so clumsy, no gentle greeting or soft affection. Only pure animilistic lust that would tear her apart forever.

 

He had done his damage. Both physically and mentally she was a shadow, a battered life force that would not venture again. She was listless now, hopeless just waiting for the strength to escape. Staring endlessly at the prison he had created in her mind.