In The Moment

A Story by Britt Worth

Exposed.

Contaminated.

Filthy.

I can’t get my skin to stop crawling from the touch of your hands.

Hide.

I must hide away from the view of the world because I’m scared that if a single person sees even the slightest glimpse of me they will be able to tell just how dirty I really am.

Black.

Blue.

Red.

My body is a canvas and you used force to paint it with all of your favorite colors.

Screaming.

Whimpering.

Begging.

My throat is scraped raw from the vocalized agony.

Ringing.

It won’t ever stop…

I’m not sure how many decibels of sound I permitted from my lips, but you still managed to turn a deaf ear.

Fists clenched.

Eyes closed.

Mouth shut.

How long did it take before my will to fight abandoned me?

Water crashing.

Sun shining.

Boat gliding across the lake.

I am in my happy place.

Replacing the feel of you jerking my body across the floor with the friction of the tube leaving the wake of the pontoon.

Throbbing.

Your hands pinning down my wrists, bruising my flesh, have now become the yellow handles, rubbing into my skin as I fight to hold on.

I just need to hold on.

Freeze-frame.

The waves have stopped.

I am midair and a final splash has rendered my face completely soaked. The yellow rays and blue sky starts to fade and are replaced by a dark ceiling.

Confusion.

Terror.

Despair.

My body hurts, but in a much more excruciating way than how it does after a tube ride. My brain is paralyzed, fogging over the traumatic event that just occurred and whisking me away to a place where I am safe; curled up in a corner and numb from the pain.

Bricks.

Walls.

Locks.

These are the few saving graces my mind has provided me with. It knows that it must deceive me if it wants to survive.

Memory loss.

Dissociation.

Dread.

Something has changed, but I don’t know what.

I try to cut into my skin so that I can find what I can’t remember, but all I get is

Blood.

Flesh.

Pain.