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His Lolita

by Debra Rose (Age: 27)
copyright 11-24-2006


Age Rating: 18 +

I remember....
his hands.
They were calloused,
felt like sandpaper against my skin
as he whispered softly
about the changes of puberty
from the book I was reading.
Pointed out the exact spots
that would later morph with age.
His gentle touch as he murmured
and called me
"his Lolita",
only later did I come to understand
he was my Humbert Humbert.
Soft lips of a chef
tracing kisses on my neck
as he whispered
"so much sweeter than your mother."
And my little smiles
because in those days
he was the only one who loved me.
The feel of a strong man's arms
around a childs waist
as I cried about not seeing father,
about being kidnapped by mother.
About seeing the man downstairs get stabbed.
Perverse adoration
between a small girl and a man
and the silent denials
that he was doing anything bad.
The whispers I later screamed
I never told him...
...begging him to take me with him when he left...
...begging to be kept by someone who loved me.
Someone who cared.
A story I've never had the nerve to tell,
A secret I've never had the courage
to admit.
The things he did to me,
And I never hated it.
And to this day,
I don't know if I should love him,
hate him,
or hate myself
for even questioning it....






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        05-16-2009     Alan Reed        

I am new here Debra but please don't take my comments with a grain of salt. Your writes so far simply mesmerize me. It looks like they have similar effects on many. I could see myself in that scene, nearby - given your description, imagery and realism. Certainly you have the talent and ability to nail 'em. Maybe someday I will be as good as you are. Whoops. I just noted that you are almost 40 years younger than I. Boy! I had better get moving. --Thank you -Alan

        11-27-2006     Kay Murphy        

I can actually relate with this one. Sounds like my life but mom fell in love with the abuser. Excellent write here.
Kay

        11-25-2006     David Pekrul        

A classic case of the Abused falling in love with the Abuser. Now that you have been able to get it out onto paper, the healing can start.
Thanks for sharing this, Debra. It took a lot of courage.
The writing is sober and well-constructed. A very moving piece.



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