Plastic Cup of Spiced Rum

*****This piece depicts a scene which may be uncomfortable, though not graphic*****
***Contains Sexual and Abuse material***
*Read with care*

You are drunk. Your breath reeks of spiced rum, with the after taste of plastic. I smell it in my nightmares as you lay beside me, breathing down my neck. Your sick mind wanders down my body before grabbing my shoulders and flipping me onto my back. I want to open my eyes but the dreams are too strong and my throat swallows my voice as I attempt to cry out in the darkness. You take my silence as a ‘yes’, and I hate you for the horrid assumption.

My arms are pinned above my head as your mouth invades my skin. I squirm, wanting to free myself from your touch. You emit a wickedness rivaled only by the devil himself. The sick desires you crave ravage my consciousness. Weeping for the past, present, and future, for every moment spent beneath you, the tears stream down my temples. You shiver then roll to the far side of the bed, ignoring your exploitation of our marriage. The emptiness you create, eats me alive as I struggle to retain the light.

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