Dried Up Tears (Long Story-Not Poem)

((Based On An Actual True Story)) Never would I have thought that i would have ended up here. My clothes on the floor, and my dignity pitied on and thrown across the room only to be smashed into pieces. I was a normal girl, like you and me. I never asked for this. Never have I ever wanted this. I was always a good girl. Did well in school, and always was on time. I was always respectful of people i have to raise my head to see, and smiled with a gleam in my eye to the ones i had to bend down to as i shook their small, innocent hands. I had always tried my best to show a little kindness, while always staying out of trouble. Yet, here I am. God has spat me out of His mouth. He does not dare to lay an eye on me, for as if He did, I would have to cut this vein in shame of having to call myself: His. I must have done something wrong. I must have commited such a dasterdly sin; created some horrifying scene for an innocent soul. I did not live up to the expectations of this higher soul. When he told me to shush, I screamed. When he told me to lie still, I moved. When he told me I wanted it, I said I didn't. I had shown only such disobediance to these other eyes. Dyed blue of such innocence, like the baby blue that go away after you're born. But his stayed. He must have been something special. And yet I must have done something terribly wrong to disturb his tranquil soul. I was only fifteen. I never had any experience. Never even kissed a boy. Yet, I have probably done more than my fellow peers I encounter everyday here, through these dim hallways of Shady Shadows. My parents left me here, involuntarily. They didn't want me though, they never did. "Get That THING Over Here! YOU! Pick That The Fuck Up!" "Yes mother..." Daddy just watched and read the paper while watching black and white reruns of the Flintstones. My little brother, only of two years, was sitting down on the floor, sucking on his pacifier like that man made me do to him. My brother started crying and the nieghbors heard me finally open my mouth. A scream; the loudest one yet. I cried out Bloody Mary and my face was lined with deep red colors that now lie as invisible scars. When they put me here, I was almost happy in that I wouldn't have to suffer such pain. But I hadn't realized on how numb I would actually start to feel. There was no emotion, and no where to run. Families came in, all wanting to adopt us. Of course my brother was the first to go, but I had never left the orphanage. No one adopts teenagers anymore. Especially sinners. One by one, they all came in smiling at first. Handshakes and hello's took place, and then, usually couples, would walk around, hand in hand, and smile at the little kids who would pull at their legs. When they came across the adolescences, they started to cling to each other, and dodge the presence of most of us. They were almost "afraid" of us, as if we were going to swoop uo and attack them like crazed ninjas. And yet, I had never even bothered to really even greet them with a smile. I've learned that when they say they want you, it's all lies. Most of the time during the year when the holidays were over, the place had almost seemed abandoned. The only thing that had stayed were the the cries of the children hiding under their beds and the silent screams of those that had never even had a voice to share. We were always hungry, they never fed us enough. Sometimes I have been so hungry, the rouches and waterbugs that had passed by did not seem so intolerant to almost indulge on. I mostly wore the same clothes again and again. They always had a little smell to them and would have the same juice stain from the past three weeks. My hair was always knotty and quite oily. I never really put too much time into how I looked. My clothes were always too tight and really showed the formation of my body. I did not look my age, but older. I had the big chest and the round ass that guys would fawn over. I always tried to wear lose clothing so it wouldn't show but I never got new clothes too often so most were very tight, sometimes suffocating me. I tried to still fit in with everyone, but most were to themselves. No one bothered with anyone, except for the people that truley did not care anymore. They would lash out at anybody that crossed eye to eye with them. I always stayed out of their way. Once I was just reading an old book I had. War and Peace. It's a very long book but I always reread it. It gives me an escape. I also read Jane Eyre in where I imagine myself as in some kind of love fantasy, despite the fact none of it even exists. One guy came up to me though and through the chair in front of me across the room and grabbed my arm tightly. He then swung me around and through me down to the floor, sliding across the room. Then he took some hard rubbered wire or rope of his and started to whip me like in those biblical times or in the times of slavery. I still have the scares that start to burn when I touch them. Sometimes my eyes would even start to water up to them. My tears were very salty, and had burned my eyes to a crisp red color. It took me a while to even learn how to stand right after that incident. But then came the day. Today. Where I had just walked calmly along the narrow hallway to my room as always. I was a little late in that I had left my book in the play room. It was really dark and dusty. But most of all, it was silent. It was the "too quite" feeling you get when you really do not hear one thing. There were no cars, no squeaking doors or cracked windows. No wind or anything. I then tried to make a noise, a voice, just to tone out the silence, but nothing had come out. I was incapable of making a sound at the time. That would soon not be a problem though. Suddenly I heard a tin pail fall to the floor. A man was there. A cleaning man. Five of them. Standing. I never talk with them, but they had always seemed nice to everyone; greeting people with their warm handshakes and friendly smiles. They called out different sexist names. I was a pet. A mistress. I was a child. One started speed walking and i then started to race my own pace. He tried to grab me and i dropped my book and tried to break free. The other one came and pushed me back I fell to the floor. I started gasping for air and my legs then failed on me. I had no strength to even move. I was screaming in my head "THIS ISN'T FAIR! I CAN'T MOVE! PLEASE! HELP ME!" Yet again, I had no voice. It hadn't come back. Another guy started pulling my clothes off as he had lied himself on top of my body. Everyone was started to pull off their clothes. I had almost wished they would have drugged me so I at least would have to remember this. And yet, they kept me awake. One by one, they took turns. I was bleeding and I was screaming. They screamed at me to listen. I was their dog. I had to do what they say, but I wouldn't. Even when it was too late I still tried to fight back. I can't even describe the pain I felt. I hated it, but slightly liked it which killed me the most "YOU LIKE IT BITCH! YOU LIKE IT! OH OH OH FUCK! YOU LIKE IT BITCH! WHAT A BITCH! CAN'T FUCK RIGHT!" I was crying and screaming. They got even more mad at that. I didn;t want to even see daylight. I would rather have them murder me, than voilate every part of me including my soul. The worst part was not even that. If they had just left me then, I would have been better than I am now. And yet, they did the most torturous thing. Those evil blue eyes; they were not so innocent anymore. They then pulled up their pants and threw my clothes at my, lying there with my salty tears mixed in with red dye. I was breaking down; I couldn't breathe. One by one, they started their way out, leaving me there. I was finally alone. And yet, those blue eyes returned and yelled out as he opened his wallet "For your good services" and through a five dollar bill at me. When he left, I froze. Could not move, speak or even breathe. I didn't even blink. Then I started getting up a little and through the five across the room saying "I DON'T WANT IT! I DON'T WANT IT! I DON'T WANT IT!" But no one was there. And there I was, lying there. And even years later, I have never left that one memory. For I cannot, it haunts me deeply. I will always lie there, still screaming, frozen in time with My Dried Up Tears...