The ground feels ice cold beneath my body.
I can feel the pain shooting through my system,
And the taste of blood has grown all too familiar in my mouth.
My eyes are shut but I feel the tears as them warm my cheeks.
That’s when everything grows quiet and I hear it…
Mockingly I laugh, my breath is short.
I sit up and open my eyes to a darkly lit alley.
My head spins, my stomach turns, the memories rush in.
My heart beats fast, my palms are sweaty and
I can feel the tears sting behind my eye lids.
Then I hear it again…
My mind takes me back to the beginning.
I was walking back to my place, the city lit up like the fourth of July.
I took the same shortcut I always do, my hood was pulled and
I was trying to be quick because it was cold enough to see my breath.
I turn the corner into the dark and suddenly my face is filled with pain.
I drop to the ground, and it’s as if I’m being kicked by a thousand different men.
I know surely I will die. If only there was someone who cared.
Then suddenly, the kicking stops. I uncurl my coiled body
And roll onto my back to catch a glimpse of my attacker before they flee.
Now here I am, again. This seemed to be a reoccurring thing most nights.
I draw my knees into my body and try to steady my breathing.
And this time it’s barely audible…
I am weak, and do not want to stand.
I am tired, and have no need to stand.
I am fed up, and do not care to stand.
I am in pain, and cannot stand.
Tell me then…how do I stand?
That is when I see him, he is ordinary but handsome.
Soft but with authority echoing in his features.
I am not frightened as I see him, but gain more peace as
He takes another step near me.
He kneels down to me and I know he will ask –
Did you see who did this?
And I respond cowardly, and quietly.
She was medium height, with dark features,
And dark hair. I know her, and I know she means me no harm.
A pathetic laugh will cross my lips as I look into his eyes,
I realize he already knows who she was.
He stands and reaches out a hand to help me up.
It hurts, but I stretch to meet his reach.
As he lifts me into his safe, strong, yet gentle arms,
I can feel every fiber of my being throb with pain –
And in that moment I realize it is him who tells me stand.
He does not tell me because he mocks me, but he
Believes I can rise above.
I look at him with tears in my eyes, searching for disgust
In his eyes but there was none. In that split second I read his
Expression. Deep, painful sorrow…
Because it was no stranger that beat me half to death,
It was my own fist that struck my jaw,
My own hands that choked the life out of my lungs,
The feet that cracked my bones were my very own.
It was me, I had beat myself down to the ground.
I too felt deep sorrow, but he held me close as we stood in the frigid alley.
He told me I have done all I can to live, I am a fighter,
I survived my attacker, I was on my feet.
No longer a victim, now only a victor.
As he let me go from his embrace, I could not feel any pain.
I looked down and had no blood, no bruise,
Just scars where the pain use to be. I looked up to thank him,
And just like that he was gone, but I heard it one more time.