And I remember how you looked, bent over me.
Your greasy hair, drooping into my innocent little face.
Your cruel face twisted into a grimace of pleasurable concentration.
And I remember how you smelled, your body close to mine.
Like cigarettes and dust from old couches.
Your sour breath panting into my face.
And I remember how you sounded, your desperate groans.
Loud and sudden, like a bull snorting.
Wrong, so wrong for a little girl to hear.
And I remember how you felt, rough as I tried to push you away.
Your calloused hands on my shoulders, holding me down.
Your peeling, sunburned nose buried in my neck.
I remember everything.
And I hate it, with every fiber of my being.
You made me this way.
With your sick, twisted ways.
I hate you.
But although you hurt me.
Although you destroyed my innocence.
I forgive you.
I forgive your sins.
And though it pains me to do so,
I still forgive you.
That does not mean I love you.
That does not mean you get to come back into my life.
That does not mean I have fully healed.
It means I'm moving on.
It means I will not waste any more emotion on you.