“The Kind With Sound” by Claire Aviles

I feel sorry for you. 
The room is dark and
she can’t see his smirk,
but she can feel it.

His breath quickens. It’s hot
against her neck.
Raspy. Desperate.
Suffocating.

Please.
Stop.
Let me go.

The bed frame knocks against the wall,
drowning out her voice.
Please don’t.

Please. Thin as tissue paper.
He ignores her pleading and
pins her arms firmly against her side.

She whimpers as he breaks her, then
falls silent and listens
to his panting,
to the frantic pounding in her ears,
to the bed frame, knocking against the wall.

She presses her forearms against his chest,
slides out from underneath his weight,
and falls to the floor.

Going somewhere?
She can hear his smirk again.
She tries to run, but her legs
have new weight. She’s frozen.
I’m not done with you yet.

The worst kind of flashback
is the kind with sound.

Also published on:http://www.deadbeats.eu/post/60347000488/the-kind-with-sound-by-claire-aviles
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