Waif

by Samantha Kolesnik

I call it “The Time Before Men,” a version of myself I can never get back. I guess, you could say, some might also call it Innocence.

I was a flesh case full of secrets and other sad things.

The older I became, the more convinced I was that no one escaped this earth unscathed by human suffering.

I’m not sure how men thought women were supposed to react to pain because our tears seemed to send them into panic or rage. We would have been better as sponges . . . absorbent and full of holes.

The world of men required certain sacrifices of me and I had simply tired of making them. It was high time for men to sacrifice for me.

What made a man? Hatred for women, perhaps. If not hatred . . . then apathy. Utilitarianism.