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I stare into the blackness. It offers nothing. I am flooded with the feelings I felt with her they come back just as strong. Humiliation, embarrassment, shame, helplessness, impotence.

Lilly holds me, but leaves me to me. I stare into the blackness and I breathe. There is nothing that will change the past and nothing that will help me forget it. It was what it was and it was what it was because of me. I wish it were different, but there’s nothing I can do. It’s in the past. It is time to accept it and let it go.

Lilly pulls back. She looks at me and she speaks.

You stopped shaking.

For now.

When it happens, we’ll go slow.

That would be nice.

As slow as you want or you need.

Thank you.

And it’ll be nice for me too.

Why?

We sort of talked about this before.

A little.

Do you need more than a little?

I need what you want to give me.

I want to give you everything.

Then tell me what you need to tell me.

She pauses, smiles.

This is scary.

I know.

Really scary.

I’m not gonna hurt you.

She smiles again.

I know.

And I’m not gonna leave you.

I know.

And I’m not gonna judge you.

Thank you.

She smiles, looks away for a moment, looks back. Her smile disappears and the brightness of her eyes fades and she starts speaking. She tells me about her Mother. About her Mother’s addictions and her Mother’s pain. She tells me about her Mother’s work as a prostitute and how her Mother sold her. She was thirteen. A man who paid for her Mother saw her and he wanted her. Her Mother needed drugs. Her Mother sold her to the man for two hundred dollars. Sold her for an hour and sold her for a lifetime. Sold her virginity for a syringe full of dope. Two hundred dollars for a syringe full of dope.

She tells me about the men after that man. How her Mother sold her regularly and stopped working herself. She tells me about the pain and the misery and the horror. Man after man. Day after day. Violation after violation. There were always syringes full of dope. Paid for with her body. She tells me how she started using them. How she hated them and how they helped her. Man after man. Day after day. Violation after violation. The syringes helped.

She tells how she left. After four years of terror. A man beat her and used a loaded gun on her and in her and after he was done, she walked out. She didn’t have any money or any belongings, she didn’t have a car. She just walked out and kept walking, hitchhiking her way to Chicago, paying for it on her back with a few minutes satisfying Truckers. When she got to Chicago, she called information and she found her Grandmother. She had never met her when she went to her house. She knocked on the door and her Grandmother opened it and they both started crying. There were no words, just tears. She and her Grandmother crying.

She tells me how she went back to School. How the Boys loved her and the Girls hated her. How she felt as if she was so far behind. How hard it was to stay away and stay clean and be decent. How hard it was to forget. How it was impossible to forget. How she met a Boy and she liked him and she started going out with him. How she had hopes and dreams, how she played out fantasies in her mind. The Boy started smoking crack and using pills and she wanted to be with him and she went along with him. She started smoking crack and using pills. He started using her. His friends started using her. Her heart was broken it had never healed it just broke again. She was smoking crack and using pills. He and his friends used her.

Something happened. She starts to speak of it and she starts to cry. It was shortly before she came here. Shortly before her Grandmother made her drive herself toward freedom. She stops speaking and she starts to cry. Heavy violent tears. Heaving sobs. She shakes and I can feel her heart through layers and layers of clothing. Through layers and layers of pain. I hold her and she cries and there are no words anymore not from her or from me. There are