22. Rutherford men

Grace-

I hate how my body responds to his touch; I hate how my nipples are poking out even though he’s doing nothing but sleeping soundly beside me.

I push him away, as gentle as I could, not because I care for him but because I don’t want to listen his voice first thing in the morning.

The same voice which makes me weak from my bones to flesh, and something takes over me, something which is not sane,

not virtuous,

not alive.

I look at my naked body bruised with his marks, every inch of my skin has turned into purple and yellow bruises.

No one would believe me a human did this to me but again, he’s a monster. My wounds don’t hurt, they never did but my soul does.

I stand on my toes walking out of his room like Tom from Tom & Jerry. The cartoon I loved as a kid, I’m still a kid but it just doesn’t feel like it anymore.

An insolent bastard of a cat chases the innocent mouse, and it’s so fucking funny to realize that I was that mouse all along I used to laugh at.

The mouse who’s