MY SOILED INNOCENCE...

I notice Her as She walks in, She's beautiful, She's smart, She's confident...

She's all I ever dream of being, She's what I have always envisioned myself as...

Sadly, She's what I'll never become.

I am 7 years old, I should still be a child; yet I have matured in ways you would never imagine.

She takes a seat beside me and I can't help but to reach out to her;

I begin to raise my hand when She turns to look at me...

Her smile turns cold when She sees me...

I have encountered this reaction many times before...

I should be used to it by now;

They smile naturally when they see a child but gradually, the smile turns cold in accordance to what they are feeling...

Then they look at me more closely and They begin to see how old I really am.

Sometimes, its amusing to watch you know;

Sometimes, it gives me a little joy to know that I can guess what they are thinking; the phases their thought processes pass through.

It starts with a genuine smile, then turns to shock, sometimes revulsion, then anger and eventually...

pity.

I stop my arm mid way and bow my head, my eyes fill up with tears unshed...

I can see myself through Her eyes.

I know She's reading me like a book;

She's not fooled by my pretty pink dress that mummy bought for me...

Neither is she believing the story of how I got to the hospital with a broken arm.

She gently strokes my head, my hair has been shaved off...

Revealing old scars and new ones going through the process of healing.

I look up at her and She smiles at me.

I smile back, taking comfort in the fact that I have qualified for her attention even in my very pitiable state.

I am 7 years old,

I'm in the hospital with a broken arm...

Daddy says that if I am asked, I should tell them I fell from the stairs...

That if I say otherwise, I will be taken away to a house filled with strangers.

So I cannot say how I was beaten and dragged all the way down the stairs for staining Daddy's suit.

Yes, I fell down the stairs; but it wasn't accidental;

The force of Daddy's palm across my face sent me tumbling down...

My mystery lady keeps on scrutinizing me...

At this point, I know that She can see the bruises around my neck and arms...

Much more apparent are the bruises on my face...

And the tell tale healing wounds at the back of my shaved head.

I am 7 years old...

Yet I have seen what most people haven't seen...

I am 7 years old...

Yet my thoughts are those of a 30 year old...

I am 7 years old...

Yet I have seen and experienced adulthood...

I am 7 years old..

A child... yet an adult...

I am 7 years old...

And I have been raped.