HE MEANT TO BREAK MY BODY. INSTEAD, HE BROKE MY HEART.
I knew from the moment I walked in that this place was not meant for me.
I was clean; this place was filthy.
I was fair; this place was dark.
But maybe I was sick of living a safe life.
Maybe I was sick of every little thing fitting together just so.
I was sick of being perfect and whole.
I wanted to be broken.
In this dark and pungent hell, I found the man to do the job.
He took me into his arms and broke me –
Over, and over, and over again.
When it was finished, I picked up the pieces of myself that remained, and I left.
But things never end that easily.
I didn’t know it then, but when I ran, I took something with me.
Something I never wanted…
Something I never asked for…
The baby of the man who’d owned me.
Now, my unborn child and I are helpless pawns in some sick and twisted game.
People are being hurt, killed.
I can’t stand to watch anymore.
All I can do is cry, and plead, and beg.
All I can say are three little words:
Please, for the love of God…
“Break me, Daddy.”