#do i need to no

It happened like this: When he turned nine, he gets called into his office. Until this point, none of them had ever been allowed in said office. It’s that day he’s told to take off his clothes, this is a pattern that continues for eight years. 

It happened like this: He’s fifteen, and talking to a reporter. The reporter places his hand on his knee, throughout the questions it slides up his thigh. The reporter calls him pretty, says he’s too pretty. It’s his own fault. 

It happened like this: He’s short on money, and the dealer offers him a way to pay the little bit. He doesn’t understand until he’s on his knees. He knows what to do by now. 

It happened like this: Someone asked how much, he said fifty. 

It happened like this: He’s twenty-two, and sitting in a police station. A cop tells him that it wasn’t his fault, he laughs at her. Because it’s always his fault. 

It happened like this: He likes skirts, and heels, and eyeliner, and dancing. 

It happened like this: The hands are always rough, and they always leave marks that hurt for days. It hurts, and it’s only ever bad people. People who like hurting other people. 

It happened like this: He tries to touch him one night, on the thin mattress in a motel room. He can’t breath, because no, no, no, no. He’s supposed to be good, he’s supposed to be kind. He locks himself in the bathroom and cries. 

It happened like this: It’s his own fault, and everybody knows it.