It sits in the dark,
hidden in a corner.
Everyone is oblivious to the silent ticking,
that has been going on for too long.

He was quiet,
inconspicuous,
so sneaky setting it up,
and hiding it where no one would suspect a thing.

It’s too late to deactivate it,
the damage has been done.
It’s going to keep ticking, and ticking, and ticking,
until it explodes.

The trauma is almost too much to bear.
The flashbacks and images,
lurking around every crevice of her mind.

She’s ticking and ticking,
more and more toward detonation,
with every image, every flashback, thoughts of his unwanted touch.
Giving her chills like knives to her young flesh.
She’s ticking faster and faster and
BOOM! . . . time’s up.