Broken

I slipped.
Fell hard on the concrete floor.
But I had to get up immediately
I couldn’t stop
My head was throbbing where it was hit.
No, not the concrete floor, the bat.
The bat had come swinging so fast
And I had failed to dodge.
Too slow.
There was blood on my face after it hit me.
I froze only for a moment before fleeing.
It was dark already
I only had to run a few blocks.
He would save me.
He would fight them.
He would keep me safe.
So I ran.
To him, his safe arms.
He would rush to the door as soon as I knocked.
I felt my body relax a bit when I was almost there
But I couldn’t slow down now
The men weren’t far behind
I had to run
To find him
To tell him how those men had hurt me
To tell him that I needed him now
I finally knocked on the door
No. I banged on the door.
It opened immediately.
I saw shock on his face.
He took me in.
But he didn’t ask what happened.
He didn’t have to.
Dad always understood me without having to say anything.
But I told him anyway.
The men had raped me.
Brutally.
I had a broken arm.
I was bleeding from a lot of places.
It was a long night;
The hospital, the cops,
The worried neighbours.
The men were never found.
My dad never mentioned the incident again
But once in a while I’d hear someone say it,
“No eight-year-old should have to go through it”
And I would cry.

Featured image credits: @being_nikonkar on instagram