The Warmth That Wasn’t Love

I feel cold but I always know he will come to make me warm. It's because he told me that he owns me. He kept me cold only to warm my body that was small for the taking. It was always cause… I'm sure that his hands weren't the warmth that I needed to become sleep worthy. I did like that I felt warm in his hands that caressed all of my body. He would pull off my clothes gently not to get caught for ripping or anything. He knew that no one would know. They’re all asleep as he sneaks into my room. I knew it was devastating to myself of what I might want to say. I was cold. I grasped for the blanket that he pulled off me, as I screamed in silence. I gave in to his warm hands of what I never wanted, but I do feel warm for the moment. I never slept because I felt the warmest part entering me from behind. My eyes would bulge out from the pain of his penis pushing in me as fast as he could. As I cry without any noise. I would scream in silence; the pain of him in me was worth being warm for just a bit. I would just smile; he will think that it's what I want. I know that I'm not going to get beat, or murdered. So I hold by hoping for myself from asking him not to… The warmest part was the tears running down my cheeks across my face. I would only ask for him to not push in harder, but I didn't talk to say anything but silence. I know now it hurts much less when you’re cold, it's kinda like you’re dead. I always wondered if it was just me. Guess I was the chosen, maybe I was to be the one that everyone else is sorry for. The one that they turn to not see… No one ever knew or saw me. I was nothing but the best piece of what he always had, and had, and hurt me. I'm only 5. Is there anyone there…