#he eats a whole raw deer with just a fork

[abombihoney]

y'all gotta stop making alastor look cool in redesigns he's gotta look a little goofy silly he needs his funny haircut adn bright colors ur fucking killing him

[naromoreau]

One last prayer

A.N: So I started writing this last year as a present for @minilev who is one of my fave Sharky lovers and has given the fandom SO much! Thank you so much, Anna, baby and have this fic of Dep Callahan and Sharky.

—–

Callahan’s arm sways, carrying the heavy blunt of her steel baseball bat, and the peggie’s skull cracks. A dry, sharp sound, mingling with whines and dead gurgles of throats she just split open. Somewhere at her right there’s a gruff, some indistinct noise that almost sounds like her name. She grabs her pistol, unloading the barrel on the mayonnaise shirt of a hollering peggie who stumbles forward, hands trying to clasp her, and she sees death crawling on his iris before he faceplants on the ground. 

There’s a hoard of screeching voices in her head, noises she has learnt to quash down, but they always manage to shatter her nerves a little. Not that it matters anymore. She’s a killer and this is what she does. There’s no escape from that. 

So she swallows bile, watching the pale rays of a dawn she always expect to never come, and tumbles when frantic hands pull at her cargo pants. 

“–sinner– filthy–,” the peggie says, choking on his own blood, with ghastly conviction, “you’r– killer, –Father – have no mercy.”

Dying words. They never matter. But within her something snaps. 

“I’m not asking for it,” she grouses and her shotgun seals the deal. 

Upclose. It’s a nightmare in red.

“Woah, woah there shorty–” 

Her finger is stuck on the trigger, and her breath is coming in stuttered gasps. She feels Sharky’s big frame pressing behind her, a hand extended over her shoulder, to lower the smoking barrel of her gun. 

“You okay, Dep?” He asks, in a way that implies he believes she’s not. 

A tinge of worry grates on his voice as he leans slightly in front of her, taking a ragged cloth from his back pocket and trying to clean the unsanitary crimson smudges of her face, a rough, calloused hand cupping her chin. 

“Yeah– I just–” She sighs and stalls, because she doesn’t know how to explain it, how it burns her inside. “I’m not what he says,” she finally blurts out. 

Callahan sweeps grime, sweat and blood off her forehead with the heel of her hand and prays Sharky didn’t quite get the pleading underlying lilt in her words. 

But if he did, he doesn’t show it. “Don’t sweat it, dude, those peggies? Fuckin’ psychos, that’s what they are, but uh– I think you need a break, po-po. You gotta eat something.”

He’s a paltry couple of inches away from her, and Callahan sees the concern in the heavy frown he’s sporting, his gaze probably taking in her red-rimmed eyes, and the tufts of blood-crusted hair. She wonders if he can see the panic flickering on her eyes– And suddenly she feels like hiding, like scrambling away from his grasp because she feels like shit, and she looks like shit, and at some point Sharky is going to realize that. Her stomach rolls over at the thought, with a stark thunk she can almost hear.

But he pulls her into a tight hug, and she doesn’t want to think about how hard her fingers curl around handfuls of his hoodie, cheek burrowed in his chest until her nose can’t take anything else than sweat, propane and gunsmoke. Slowly, her dismay coils, subsided. 

“It’ll be alright, shorty, I got you.”

—–

“Can I use your shower?” She’s feeling the stomach-churning smell of death burning her nose, sticking to her clothes, which are going directly to the trash bin.

“Uh, sure, just- just don’t drink it. Bliss in the pumps, y’know.” He shrugs.

The water is not too cold, after all it’s mid-july and the sun is scorching high above. She hears Sharky fumbling in the kitchen and his words waft, dampened by five inches of drywall.

“How about some bacon and eggs, and uh, beers? What ya say shorty?”

“Sounds fine,” she yells over the hard splash of water. She scrubs a little too hard, a little too rough, until her skin is just a scour away of being raw.

Honestly, Callahan doesn’t want to give a second thought to the whirling shit in her head, or the fact she’s dwindling Hope County’s population in very indictable ways.

She just wants to sink and let herself marinate in something good for once.

“All ready, chica! Bacon is all crispy and– oh shit, shit– yeah, eggs are hot.”

Something good like Sharky. Callahan ponders what seems like an askew path and bites her lip, but she doesn’t have the heart to drag him down to that specific level of hell she feels like visiting every day. It ain’t fair.

So she sighs and wraps herself in a threadbare green towel, too small for her liking.

“Smells nice.” Her stomach grumbles already committed to devour whatever will appear in front. “Damn, Shark, didn’t know you could cook.”

“Oh, this is nothin’” Sharky answers with his back turned, arranging plates and forks over the counter, “you gotta try my casserole, man, I make a killer casse–”

He spins. She sees him faltering, eyes sliding down at a torturously slow pace over every inch of skin she’s showing and his jaw falls, slack. The heavy hitch in his movements is painfully evident as he takes a small pace forward.

Callahan’s skin prickles under his gaze and the way his eyes linger at the hidden apex of her thighs make heat pool in her sex, irradiating in belching waves all over her. It’s not as if he hadn’t seen her bits, more often than not to patch her up in the roaring distress of battle, diving under flitting bullets. But not like this. Never like this.

Her fingers clasp the towel, and she shuffles two shy paces forward, trying to flash him a coy smile. His cheeks are red and his throat bobs as he swallows, finally fixing wide open eyes on hers.

“You uh, you need some clothes,” he says, breathless. Sharky clears his throat and fastens his stare to her face, something that makes her heart flutter. He’s trying to be proper, trying to be a friend, when the only thing she wants right now is to toss that tilt-a-whirl of anxiety over the window and seize the moment.

“Do I?”

“Are ya– are you messing with me?”

A small flare of doubts spark in her, but unwanted images flicker in her eyelids, like a film she refuses to watch. Hopes wane and she needs this. Needs him. Callahan closes the distance and gives him a chaste kiss.

For a moment he seems to lose the ability to speak, blinking as a deer caught in the headlights. And then he moves.

He cups her jaw with trembling hands and Rook lets the towel slide down the floor, pressing herself against him, and twinning her arms around his neck. When his mouth meet hers, there’s a jolt hurtling from her toes to her temples, amped a hundred voltages when he glides his tongue across her lips and in, tasting her thoroughly.

“Oh man, oh man, oh man–” he almost warbles between raspy moans when they break apart and Callahan kisses the side of his neck with an intensity she can’t control.

He’s flushed an eager, nipping at where her neck meets her shoulder, hands digging into her soft curves. She allows him to pull her to the couch with fingers that dig into her skin, his erection rubbing against her stomach, making her toes curl in anticipation.

The upholstery whines when he falls over it, Callahan clambered over his lap, and he quickly takes off his hoodie and hat, tossing them to a corner.

“Am I– is this real?” he breathes, giving her the most adoring look she’s ever seen. “C’mon shorty, pinch me, ‘cuz I don’t– I mean…”

“I want you, Shark.” She’s conscious of the demanding tone in her words but she doesn’t care. Apparently neither does him.

A shy smile spreads on his face, as he draws her closer, hands cinching tightly around her waist. “I’m blissed as fuck, am I? ”

He closes his lips around her nipple, sucking and rolling his tongue over it and making her arch in response. She’s soaked, the musk of her arousal closing down on her while he nothing but plays with her peaks, showing her he indeed was good at this. So good at this.

His fingers prod at her cunt, breaching her for him helped by the wetness gathered between her thighs. A breathless moan breaks from her throat, as she feels her walls clenching, ready to take more.  

The harrowing screams and cries seem to subside with every second she dives more and more into him.

“You’re so fucking wet,” he says amidst labored breaths, “but uh, you still sure ‘bout this?”

There’s a glimmer of uncertainty in his blue eyes, and she hurries to muffle them with a hard kiss. “Fuck yes, Shark,” she says, fanning his lips with halted gasps, “you’ve no idea how much I want this.” There’s the pinch of a doubt at the back of her mind, like a cold, dead hand caressing the nape of her neck. Splitting her will in half.

“For-for real?” He stutters, unassuming of her mental ordeal.

His whole face lights up, watching her nod, spilling words she can’t quite catch against her skin.

She tugs at his belt, freeing his erection in record time, ripping broken gasps out of him. Fast enough to not think about why. His hands wander over her body as she finally rises on her knees and takes him in her hand.

“Oh, shit–”

He seems about to faint, his eyes almost crossing as she slowly takes him in. Her bottom lip disappears in her mouth trying to quench the cry that threatens to tear from her throat. He’s long, wonderfully thick, demanding a minute from her to adjust. It’s been perhaps a year since the last time she did this, and even when she’s had her fair share of action, the hot press of his cock is testing her limits. For a minute Callahan lets herself go, pulling at his hair, raking teeth over his neck.

“Fuck, shorty, you feel so good.”

His voice is low pitched, a rasp, hoarse sound that scrapes along her skin. Sharky tilts his head back, and thrusts upwards.

“Shit.” She parts her lips slightly, her head buzzing with overwhelming pleasure as he sinks into her. The drag of his dick feels amazing against her walls, making her want to ride him hard and fast until they have nothing more to give. Until she’s full of him and nothing else. Until the screeches and the sour smell of decay finally disappear. Callahan closes her eyes, making every downstroke scratch on violence.

“Easy, babe, easy.” His words sound like a low grunt, as he steadies her, by the hips. His eyes could scorch her and her gut twist with want and something undefinable. “Don’t– don’t wanna end this too soon.”

But her own peak comes too quick, crashing against every single wall she has. Her thighs quiver, her cunt pulsating and dragging him until he grunts and spills inside her.

There’s so much one can hide in their every day and when Callahan looks at Sharky, pure glint of joy in his eyes, a peaceful smile reeking adoration, her heart stops.

She can’t do this. Whatever this is. Not if not for the right reasons, which are many and spread out for everyone who wants to see it. Yes, yes. She loves him. But he deserves better.

Better than a venom-filled cop, who by now, has more blood in her hands than everyone in the county combined. Someone who isn’t going down the hill with every passing second, and isn’t a step away to be catalogued as a psychopath. And proudly so.

“Shorty? You ‘aight?”

The silence is strained, and Callahan tries her best smile, scurrying away from his lap with a faint “yeah, be right back”. She can feel the pungent smell of decay reeking from the clothes in the trash bin in the bathroom, reminding her that maybe, just maybe, the peggie from before wasn’t mistaken at all.

She is what he said.

Suddenly the air is too scarce, the walls too close, her skin too tight. She dresses in her former discarded clothes all while listening to Sharky pratting about drinking wine and watch something.

She can’t do this.

“…and the second season is even better than the first,” Sharky is saying out of sight. “You ok there?”

Lead bars constrict her heart. “Yeah, give me a sec.”

Silently, just as Peaches hunting, she opens the door of the trailer and runs. It’s better this way, even if Sharky won’t get it.

Unholstering her gun, she makes her way to Eden’s Convent. The turmoil inside her needs to be quashed down, and sometimes that’s something just bullets can do.

[carbrakes-and-stakes]

Nice to meat you - Nora & Alain

Location: Alain’s farmhouse Time : A week ago Who : @fearfordinner, @carbrakes-and-stakes, Alain’s dog

Meat! Meat! Meat! Nora was very excited to be walking up the driveway of Alain’s home. She was about to feast on that meat! And she wouldn’t even have to cook it! If it wasn’t for the fact that her birthday had been on April First her whole life she might have mistaken today for it. Plus! PLUS! She made a friend. She didn’t think he wanted her as a friend but her dads always said she should try harder in making one. So as she got to the front door she threw it wide open and announced in her dull monotone. “Alain, I’m here.” 

God damn it. What stopped him from telling her that she was not even invited. Did he tell her she was not invited? He couldn’t really remember. He’d been rather drowsy lately, and his medication, which he loved dearly was to blame for it. Alain  stood up carefully from his couch, dropping the book he was reading to get to the entrance door, which she had already opened. Huh, he thought, she did not even seem too happy to be here. Was he going to die? Was she a psychopath? Okay, he was being paranoid. Shuffling in his socks across the living room, he motioned her to follow him in the kitchen, which was about to get messy.

Nora shut the door behind her, following Alain to the kitchen. He was adorned in his bed clothes still which gave Nora pause. “Is this a pajama party?” She inquired, setting her bags upon bags of meat on the kitchen counter. “I didn’t come dressed for that.” Nora came dressed as a typical thirteen year old e-boy. “I have beef, chicken, pork, deer and fish.” What she didn’t add was that the fish she got was fresh from the sky. Honestly, she didn’t know why people were so uppity about eating some good ol’sky fish. It was just like normal fish. But from the sky. And free! “Feed me.”

“Why? Should I change into better clothes ?” He would not, and he hoped that she would not give him shit for dressing the way he wanted, in his own house. “Obviously. Heh, maybe we’ll have music tastes in common, at least,” unless she secretly loved Britney Spears. Grabbing an apron from a drawer handle, he tied it around his waist and pulled a pot from underneath the sink. “Well, I’m saying no to the fish,” Alain had seen enough fish for the rest of his life, and did not want to get anywhere near any.  “I’m going to make a couscous with beef and chicken,” he paused, thinking of something quick to do with the pork. Obviously the deer would be made into a stew. “Okay, some of my recipes take about an hour to cook, the deer will probably take longer, but you should be able to get a taste of pork in 30 minutes?” Alain explained, getting garlic, onions, and herbs from his drawers. “I’ll need help peeling onions, if you don’t mind.” There were things his hand wouldn’t let him do for now. 

“No, I just didn’t know I was supposed to wear my pajamas.” Nora mumbled, lifting herself onto the counter and getting ready to settle in and wait for her food. Food that she was hoping would be ready within the next five minutes. “Thirty minutes?” Nora asked, her eyes drifting to stare at the opposite wall. Would she be able to make it thirty minutes without food? She didn’t think she would, she thought she would waste away right before his eyes. Disappear. Like those kids in that avengers movie. Just instantly gone. “But I’m hungry now.” Her lifeless tone and expression could not truly express how intensely hungry she was. It was her food and she wanted it now. Then he was asking her to do labor? “We don’t need onions. They aren’t meat.” 

“Well if you want food, you’ll have to peel these,” Alain pointed at the onions on the cutting board and turned his back to chop the meat into smaller pieces. “Can you at least put the rest in the freezer? You brought meat for the whole town,” he grumbled, indicating her to use the door on the side, to get there. The chest freezer was in a room attached to the kitchen which was not renovated yet, and served as a back entrance, allowing him to get in and out with full hunting gear without being seen by anyone. If she didn’t search through his things she wouldn’t see said gear and he wouldn’t have a lot of explaining to do with a stranger. “Then you can peel the onions,” he pushed the garlic back into the drawer and searched through his cupboards for garlic paste instead. Maybe he was not very patient, but then, he was only cooking for her because she was the kind of person who carried a hammer around.

Nora considered her options for a moment, staring blankly at Alain. She wanted food, yes, but if she wanted to do any of the work to put it together, she could have just stayed home and made almost raw meat. That would have been ready already. She would have been shoveling buckets of meat into her gullet by now. “Fine.” She aquised, sliding off the counter and picking up the bags of meat he wasn’t going to use. She dropped it off in the back freezer, not bothering to look around. She was too hungry for curiosity. Coming back, she started peeling onions with an obvious unpracticed hand. It started getting to the point where it looked more like she was making a mess than helping with cooking, but by god, she was doing her best. “Onions peeled.” She shoved a handful of onion mess at Alain to prove her point. 

It was starting to smell nice in the house, and Alain was not surprised when he saw Orion try to get the door open with his snout. What was surprising, was to see the german shepherd look at Nora and cower out of the kitchen with his tail between his legs. A frown on his face, he glanced at the woman. That was odd. “Huh, guess he doesn’t want to be friends with you,” like me, he almost added. Taking a look at her work, he deadpanned and stayed silent for a split second. What. The actual. Fuck. “Good job,” he finished it by cutting those in half and throwing them in a blender to get them in small pieces quickly. He didn’t want her to join the 9 fingers squad, even if he did not exactly care either. “I’ll just go make frozen french fries to go with those,”  he pointed at the marinating pork chops and disappeared to get them from his freezer. Looked like she had not touched anything. Good.  French fries seemed a bit like low effort, especially since he was not doing much here, other than deep frying them, but she did not seem like the kind who cared for fancy cooking anyway. If she could at least admit that she had never had better meat, he would have won something out of this anyway. 

Nora looked at the dog, her expression as emotionless as ever. “Dogs don’t like me.” She stated blandly. Dogs, unlike humans, could smell the bear on her. And dogs, unlike humans, knew exactly why they should be so scared of her at all times. Smart doggies. Alain complimented her chopping, as he should. She did a fine job. To think he had the nerve to invite her over to feed her, then ask her to help cook. Some people these days. She watched as he went to go get some frozen french fries, wondering why they needed them. All they needed was the meat. Why was he so extra. Nora walked over to the cooking pan and stood over it, staring longingly at the food she wished so desperately was in her stomach. “I’m hungry…”

Alain having installed the deep frier in the back kitchen, walked back in the kitchen to find Nora standing over his gas cooker, probably contemplating stealing a piece from one of the pots. “I can tell,” he frowned, “you have the fucking munchies, or what?” Giving her one last glance, as if to tell her, I’m watching you, don’t you fucking dare, Alain then turned his back on her, cutting peppers and tomatoes with less precision than he usually would have had. Good thing about most French food, was that you did not need to watch it closely, unlike those damn pork chops. He trusted Nora not to let these burn. “You can use a fork in the drawer to your left,” he paused, “to flip the pork chops, not eat them.” In the meantime, he would have time to season his couscous and add the vegetables he just cut, to the pot. 

“I’m here to eat.” Nora answered when Alain asked about the current state of her hunger. Why else did she come all the way here if it wasn’t to completely devour all the meat she’d gotten him. Sighing as she looked down at the pork, Nora wondered if it was a challenge and if she could accept the challenge. Nora had never responded well to people telling her what to do, and right now that made her want to stick her hand in the pan and grab the meat to eat…. Use the fork? Oh that was a good idea, it would probably burn her hands. Only now he said it wasn’t for eating. Nora let out a heavy sigh, grabbing the forks and flipping the pork. “They are ready to be eaten.” She insisted. 

“Really? I couldn’t tell. Thank you for clarifying this for me,” Alain raised his eyebrows at himself, blinking in complete disbelief. Why did he even allowed her to get here, in his house. This place was supposed to be a shelter for me, a safe haven, and he couldn’t remember the last time he had a guest. “Are they?” Pursing his lips, he glanced over her shoulder. “Ok. Let’s get some plates, I’ll go get the fries out,” getting two plates out of the cupboard, he left once again and came back with way too much fries for two. Then she looked like she could eat like an ogre. Looked, no, she sounded like she could eat like an ogre. She was very thin, and he wondered how she could stay in shape if she ate this much. “A table, then,” he motioned her to follow him to the dining room with a nod of his head. 

Nora thought that Alain was being sarcastic, since all the messages she’d ever sent him before coming over had something to do with eating. Finally it was time to eat. Nora helped pick things up, and carry them over to the table her stomach rumbling all the while. She sat down on a seat, crossing her legs underneath her then immediately pulled a piece of cooked pork and stuck it in her mouth. Chewing as if the world would end when she stopped, Nora looked around his dining room. It didn’t look like he hosted many people in here. “Yum.” She said, finally swallowing and then grabbing another piece of pork. It was more cooked then she was used to, but who was she to complain. She had food! 

Alain was still struggling with grasping properly his knife when he noticed Nora eating with her bare hands. “Damn, who raised you?” This was not his kindest comment, but these were certainly the worst table manners he had seen in a while, and that included fighters at the ring. If he tried his best to strip himself of the etiquette he had been told to follow as a child, he had trouble to let those go when it came to food. And now he had trouble finding his appetite, watching Nora eat all this like her life depended on it. “Bon appetit, I suppose,” she was just making him feel anxious. He took a sip of water to calm himself down, but that did not really work. And so he kept staring at her for a while, eventually leaving the table to head back in his kitchen. Nope, this was not okay. He did not like having people over, he did not like bad table manners, and his kitchen was a complete mess. Rubbing his face, he tried to gather his thoughts. For how long was she going to be staying here? Maybe he could kick her out ? What was he saying ? He could not do anything too fast with his medicine, or he’d end up dizzy and rushing to the bathroom to vomit. Why couldn’t he meet nice, normal people? Why did it always have to be the weirdos? He had hoped that she would calm down once she would have something to eat, but she was still acting like an animal. 

“My dads.” Nora managed to answer the question between mouthfuls of meat being shoveled over and over into her mouth. Every now and then she’d get some of the side food in there too, and she had to admit that it tasted okay too. But she liked the meat the most. Eventually she noticed that Alain wasn’t eating himself. Eventually he even got up and left the kitchen. Did… he not eat? Nora wondered. She started piling a bunch of the meat and a few of the sides on a plate, grabbed his utensils and followed him into the mess of his kitchen. “You forgot to eat.” She mumbled, shoving the plate of food towards him. 

Alain sat down on the counter and rubbed at his face, sighing heavily. Maybe he was just disappointed, upset. This must have been it. Nora still seemed like a nice person, and she probably was a nice person, when you put aside her weird eating manners and her hunger, which was what brought her here. She was lucky he was too a bit odd, and too nice to tell her to fuck off. Maybe he just appreciated the company. He was breathing with his abdomen when she entered the kitchen with his plate in her hands. Yes, she probably was a nice person. And now he felt bad for leaving like that. “Thanks. I needed a moment to myself,” he forced himself to smile, which made him look like he wasn’t sure whether he was happy or not that she was here. “I’m glad you didn’t forget to bring me my fork and knife,” his own comment made him scoff. “Let’s get back in the living room,” he glanced to the things on the stove. “If you’re still hungry, one of those is gonna be ready in 30 minutes.”

“My dads told me people should use them.” Nora answered. She never understood the appeal. They were more work to get the food to the end goal. She supposed people were just weird like that. She followed Alain murmuring under her breath that she was always hungry. Thirty minutes was a long time to wait for food, but she would wait. She would wait and she would eat the rest of the food with as much vigor and verocity as she had the rest of it. It was, after all, very good.

[cwillis495]

I have something to say. There are separate lines of thought, feeling, experience that need to be connected that I need to piece together, to understand. And part of me is aware that it is past, and I am already stronger and am alive, so perhaps it doesn’t matter and isn’t needed - but it feels like in order to be whole I must piece it together.

Separated. Glimpses and feelings, a familiar feeling in my chest and at the core of me - of being torn into, or raw with something gaping open, or being pried open or apart and set ablaze, everything burns or aches. It all blends together but seems disjointed at the same time.

There are feelings even in childhood of not being ok, or something wrong. Uncertain whether images and dreams are real, whether memories are normal and innocent or hurtful, it's hard to trust and it all has a shadowy and sad tinge to it. I don’t remember being a happy child - I remember being afraid, and sad, and imaginative, and ridiculous, and lonely.

There are dark and barely remembered nights of giving in after too much to drink, after fighting or arguing or giving up arguing why it was or wasn’t a good time, and feeling the familiar rhythms and pains waiting for it to end, to be filled up, used as a receptacle. I became so good at taking it, at seeming like it was fine, at using it to avoid arguments. Then times when I cried or it hurt so bad, or i really didn’t want it and needed it to stop but he wouldn’t till he came. Feeling sick and raw and disgusting. Blaming myself for all of it. For giving up in the first place, but also stuck because what else would I do? And after long enough, no one else was going to want me or love me.

And after the first time, like a seduction or like two prey animals cornering and feasting on a deer. So naive, just there and trying to trust and hoping that it would mean I would be loved

Or Nights waking up to hands, searching hands. Frozen, terrified, unsure how or what to do but that something was happening to me and trying to wait for it to end.

That naive first “date”, thinking we could be innocent kids, all watching a movie. The taste of 99 Bananas in my throat and the dizziness as they played the game that “when she says no she means yes” “if she fights, she wants it”. Fighting, kicking, wrestling, and eventually disappearing. Maybe the first time I really left myself, vaguely aware, watching him make me get him off, feeling his hand in me, but not there, in the movie maybe, or elsewhere. If I stopped moving he’d move me like a doll. Going to the hot tub after, like a zombie. Feeling lightheaded and sick. He took off his swimsuit for me to suck it, saying i “owed him”, throwing up outside.

The bus, that tragic desire to be nice to the other kid who was bullied too. Except when he decided to push his face between my legs, over and over, me fighting and pushing and hitting him, him biting my thighs and grabbing and laughing “don’t be a party pooper!” like it was a fun game. Following me home for days.

Just moved, trying to get back into dating tentatively. Seeming nice guy who knew my brothers offered to help with moving and get food after. He came over, but seemed different than online - wouldn’t speak to me, only responded with one word, it felt like he hated me or was angry. Felt uncomfortable and confused, but he moved some things, then was time to leave and he grabbed me, kissed me and threw me on the bed. I felt stunned and afraid even though I know maybe this is a thing that happens, but all I could do was lie still and beg him to wear a condom and he left once he finished.

It hurts and I am sad, and I am sad for the ways I’ve continued to hurt myself through all of it, to try to destroy myself and my body for all that it represented in being taken over by others.

Following the slippery slope of someone else’s desire- I wanted attention and affection or love, but quickly y’all becoming much deeper and more sexual and then like a play or a performance that I acted out perfectly but so much shame and sickness- the tip of cock deep inside you/fucking your mouth/harder/filling you up

Flickers from younger years- dislocated shoulders from the park, stabbing forks, left alone outside, inside, in cars, in strange homes, slaps, cuts in my mouth, showers and baths and Vaseline and dressing up and doing everything expected and trying to be good but never really right, fights over signatures or school events, bikes, bullies, how to dress and hide in the house, waking her up and getting her to bed, fire, losses, separation, so much sorrow in her and trying to fix it

Bullies everyday through middle school, counting down by the hour and hiding

Pills in the summer

Starving and excercising and hurting and hiding

Drinking and trying to lose time and getting into those bad places

Losing grandparents , relationships

Starting food again, throwing up and excercising, drinking, smoking, always wanting to disappear

Trapped into marriage to escape refusing to see any other way, slow shift and losing control, insults, criticism, commands, drunken fits, eggshells, broken things, threats, just trying to keep it together but getting more afraid - back to drinking, back to too many pills and almost going, to hurting myself and not eating much

Chaotic and bad relationships just trying to feel ok and affection and loved