Please stop. You’re hurting me.

The police officer telling my mother how I died.

Shut your fucking mouth.

I remember the day my sister was born, tiny wrinkled fingers and toes.

His hand around my throat.

I understand it now.

I was attacked.

That’s not the word, you need to say the word.

You need to go to the police, he might do this to someone else.

That’s not my fucking responsibility. 

His black eyes.

I feel safe when gentle men touch me gently.

You like it rough, shut the fuck up.

I undervalued love.

Paralysed.

Safety now colours my intimacy.