The world is a scary place. It’s those tall dark figures, empty roads, distant laugher of men that can barely walk. It’s the wet grey pathways, silent alleys, closed shops. It’s the night, the helplessness, the venerability. You run. You think how brave you are when you’re at home or with your friends, talking bout your fast reactions and the strength of your fragile fist. You tell them all the ways you could escape. So brave aren’t you? So why are u running? Why is your chest pounding? Your hands clutched into fists, sweating. You’re all alone aren’t you? You poor little girl. You’re running cause you know, if he catches you, there isn’t a god damn thing that you can do about that. He will take your body. So run. The rain is tapping quietly on the window. You can hear distant cars, puddles splashing. The room is warm and quiet. You’re in bed. Your mind wonders and now, you’re scared. You don’t feel safe in your bed don’t you? Not anymore. It’s night behind those windows. The tall dark figures, the empty roads, the distant laugher of men who can barely walk, wet grey pathways, silent alleys. Your body wasn’t touched so they won’t understand what scarred you. You’ll tell them and they will nod and tell you how scary that must have been but what they wont understand is that it isn’t about your body being touched. It isn’t about your bruised neck and drops of blood on your shaking hands, it isn’t about the tears and the screams cause it didn’t happen but it’s about the fact that it could. It’s the realization that you might have been somewhere other then your warm bed this night. Sanity.