You Should've Kept Driving

by M.A. Savino

“Jenny, if you don’t shut your mouth, I’m going to slice you open and release your guts onto the floor like a fucking piñata.”

“You better hope you secure me well, Benny-boy. Because if I get my hands on that tiny cock of yours, I’m going to cut it off, tie a string to the end of it and stuff it in Jenny's pussy like a fucking tampon.”

I turn my head fast, but a blob of semen lands heavy on my eyelashes weighing them down. I keep my eyes closed not wanting his fluids to enter and contaminate my eyeball.

I would stuff some freshly whipped warm mashed potatoes between his butt cheeks and lap them up like a thirsty dog. Slurp.

He takes one finger out and presses it into my other hole. “Two in the pinky and one in the stinky.” How I wish I had to shit right now.

“Benny, Benny, Bo, Benny, little dick and ho Jenny, beep bop bo beep, beep; you’re a creep.” I sing cheerfully.

My other family members, neighbors, and friends saw me as an outcast, a freak. When boys show violent behaviors and tendencies, it’s brushed off as boys being boys. But when it’s a girl, oh, the horror. She needs help—counseling, medications, an exorcism, Jesus, something.

Trauma can change you. How you interact with people, manage your emotions, and facial expressions become less genuine. You force a smile even though you’re dying inside. Slowly, you don’t react to people at all and withdraw from family and friends. Nothing makes you smile; nothing bothers you anymore. You become numb to the world around you. Soon just being around people is too much. You stay in and prefer your own company over other people. Being alone, even when your thoughts chatter inside your head, is preferable.

Life pushed these girls into the darkness with me. And now that they’re here, they’ll never be the same.