Her Virginity Was Stolen

Her eyes were shut tightly as she sought to cut short from the surface of her mind memories that tugged like sidelong refrains she wished she could shut out but failed to.

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The tightness of each lid of her eyes glued to the other turned the darkness from inside of her eyes to a burning orange the likeness of the setting sun. Deep inside of her, the turmoil from within her flesh sent waves of agony and sorrow in tiny wiry lines through aching nerves up into her mind - a mind that was losing it's 'mind'.

The silvery light from the moon shone from outside the window on her bare body in dim rays that heightened the gloominess in her head as she lay motionless on the bed; a shallow stream of blood flows slowly from within the vandalised 'cave' between her hurting legs like a river would between valleys on to the damp and rumpled sheet of fabric on the bed.

The heaviness of the thoughts in her mind connived with the revenge she sought from within her soul to soften and harden her heart; it left her eyes with a sogginess to deal with. The tears she sought to shut out trickled forcefully from the sides of her shut eyes with every painful memory of hours earlier until there was no tightness to hold them back anymore, the victorious tears leaving a river flowing from her eyes across the contours of her face. From within her nostrils, twin streams of mucus flowed to create a temporary confluence on her face where her nose met her cheeks as she rolled from a side to the other on the sweat and blood soaked sheet that had played host to the piggy snorts and grunts of her assaulter as he dug into the soil in her 'cave'.

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Her name is Victoria. Victoria is just sixteen. Victoria woke up a virgin but wouldn't be falling back asleep as one courtesy of Uncle's lost lust.
"No, she must have done something to warrant Uncle's assault. Uncle couldn't have been that savage, "you and I may reason.
Yes, she had done something. Her offence? Too hot a body to miss her Uncle's cold merciless eyes with breasts and buttocks the likeness of those big Makurdi mangoes and watermelons. Her crime? Born in a time where 'sixteen' means 'sex teen' to men like her Uncle. Victoria is not any hotter than Uncle's wife - truth be told - whose hypnotizing backside wiggles carefreely to the beats made by her steps each time she struts gracefully with frontsides hanging like pawpaws; the 'third leg' between Uncle's legs was just greedily thirsty and hungry like that of every other man stuck on the path of uncontrollable sexual desires. Uncle is probably on his bed resting his head on his wife's massive buttocks or pounding his lust away once more or snoring his guilt away from his wife.
Meanwhile, Victoria is far from asleep 'though she longs to lay off some of her worries and tears and fears in the subconsciousness and unconsciousness of sleep, the hurting bloodied tear from between her legs where her 'cherry' previously bloomed conspiring with the tear in her heart to leave her a carrier of sorrow and agony and pain and misery. Her mouth twitches in attempts to voice out her despair or cry out loud atleast but silence clasps it's palms tightly over her lips, words fail her save for her lows sobs asking "Why?" to no one in particular. Girls hardly had the courage to gather enough words to accuse a trusted man - moreso a relative - of sexual abuse in this part of the world she's from, so one bore her trauma in her closet - her words getting lost in her cries gradually as each day passes.

There are many 'Victorias' out in the world scattered here and there in homes and schools and churches and places whose unexplored 'caves' are longed for by men with just 'rocks' between their legs where their manhoods should have been. Abuse of any kind never leaves the minds of its victims, trust me.
Somewhere anywhere,'Victoria' had lost, is 'bout losing, or would lose her womanhood to the insatiable desire of a thirsty and hungry man who just wants to pound away his lust even at Victoria's loss.
Somewhere anywhere,'Victoria' had cried, is crying, or would cry from having her cherished 'cherry' stolen from the 'cave' within her legs by the digging rock which erupts from between Uncle's thighs.
Somewhere anywhere, you could spare 'Victoria' the trauma; you should save her the tears!

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