Scars in a Strange Place

It was 1:00 in the morning and I was laying down quietly. My legs were shivering and my arms folded tightly across my chest. My face mushed against my cousin’s feet allowing only the smell of his cheesy feet to pass my nose. My eyes started tearing up from the breeze coming in from the small holes in the wooden wall right next to the bed. And the sound of the rusty zinc pierced my ears every two seconds. As I lay down, I reminisced about how much as a child I liked sleeping in my aunt’s house. Simply because my cousins were around my age and my sisters were never home. I thought about how much I loved playing with my cousins and telling scary stories to each other before bed.  All of a sudden my memory was interrupted by a coarse cold hand on my leg. Not again I thought to myself. I wondered when this nightmare will be over. A salted liquid touched my tongue, I was no longer tearing up from breeze coming from the hole in the wall. The coarse hand started moving closer and closer to my thigh. I reached for the sheet that was on my cousin’s cheesy feet and pulled it to my face. I started hearing voices in my head “just close your eyes and get it over with, no punk get up and run, maybe you can wait it out and do something tomorrow, no…no I can’t”, All I remembered after the hearing the voices was heavy breathing and hot air in my face. Was it over? The bottom of the hard spring bed where my feet lay wide apart sank, as if a 200 pound man stepped on the bed.

  

                               To be continued!...