Past Midnight: Two

At night, I lie awake and see all the unopened boxes spread across the room, each one labeled with the familiar scribble of your name. I’m afraid to open them, even if I knew what they contained. They’ve been here for a couple of weeks now and I should really get to unpacking but maybe, just maybe, if I keep them sealed it’ll keep you here a little bit longer. Continue reading “Past Midnight: Two”

Being A Girl: A Brief Personal History of Violence

Damn.

The Belle Jar

1.

I am six. My babysitter’s son, who is five but a whole head taller than me, likes to show me his penis. He does it when his mother isn’t looking. One time when I tell him not to, he holds me down and puts penis on my arm. I bite his shoulder, hard. He starts crying, pulls up his pants and runs upstairs to tell his mother that I bit him. I’m too embarrassed to tell anyone about the penis part, so they all just think I bit him for no reason.

I get in trouble first at the babysitter’s house, then later at home.

The next time the babysitter’s son tries to show me his penis, I don’t fight back because I don’t want to get in trouble.

One day I tell the babysitter what her son does, she tells me that he’s just a little boy, he doesn’t know…

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