Matthew Lomas
Rape; from the original latin word Raptum: To steal, thieve, or seize by force.
I can’t remember the day before, only the moment after normal.
The smell, the metallic tinge of the ever present haze grey hull.
Though I suppose it might have been my own blood I’m remembering.
I can’t be raped, a man is strong.
I struck my attackers with my fists.
Until I couldn’t.
2 pairs of hands forced me against the bulkhead and bound my hands.
Was I just mistaken? Or was I never a man?
I kicked my attackers with my boots.
Until I couldn’t.
2 more pairs of hands bound my legs and forced me face down onto the deck plates.
I think I’m about to be raped.
I grew desperate and even bit my attackers.
Until I couldn’t.
A grease stained knee ground my face into the metal shavings covering the nonskid.
If not a man, what else is there for me to be?
There was nothing more I could do, so I thought I’d just keep breathing.
Until I couldn’t.
But that moment never came.
Was I the figment? Or was the normal?