Rape n Such

One day I sat and thought about the whole idea of rape or being raped in its entirety. I recollect the imagery of news reports with 'rape victim' headliners, and remember the few rape scenes I actually watched all the way through from graphic movies. I reminisce of past lovers and the intimate moments we shared. A discussion of whether or not it was kosher to wear socks in the act plays in my head. I call to mind the willingness we had to be so vulnerable to each other, and how morbidly damaging it would be to be raped. To have someone physically force themselves on you. To feel so helpless that you know that your cries for help are heard by no one, but you and your rapist. To know that your screams of pain are just getting him off. "I like 'em loud!" he says between grunts of sick satisfaction. He finds your suffering satisfying. He finds it easier to bend you over to do it. He finds your blood dripping down your widespread legs and continues. His nicotine breath on your back getting your skin clammy becomes heavier with each thrust. He presses deeper and more of you is torn. He pounds faster and the pain doesn't stop. He doesn't stop. He takes you. He robs you of the comfort of a sexual partner. He rids you of the longing and consolation of a lover. All gone, all of you. G o n e.