violation

They put their hands on her and tore her apart. Inside her, on top of her, pushing, pulling, making her theirs. They took from her everything she had, everything she could give. She wouldn't give it to them, but they took it anyway. They had hands. They had fingers. They were inside. They were everywhere, waiting for her with hungry hands and fingers and eyes.

They never touched her. Their looks pierced her body, each of the thousand eyes left gaping holes in her skin. Her head reeled from their stares from all around her. She knew what each one meant, the lust dripping down from their eyelids and spilling over into their mouths and then into hers. Their eyes tore off her clothes and laid her out naked and alone and went inside her. They invaded her over and over again until she learned to like it. Until she needed it. They took off her clothes and took off her skin and looked underneath to see what she was made of but never cared once they found out.

They took her blood with their looks and they took other things with their hands. Her breath quickened to their stares. They fucked her over and over again with their eyes until her hands were theirs and she had to cum thinking of hungry stares and her desire was only a mirror of theirs, wanting to see her naked, wanting her vulnerable, and wanting to make her theirs. They tied her up and kept her locked inside a tiny box, locked inside herself, inside their stares. They took everything from her until she couldn't help but give it.

She wanted to make them to go away, to keep their eyes and hands off her. But at the same time, she needed their looks, their hungry eyes, to prove to her what she was. That she was. That she existed at all. But still, she knew it would all be the same if they were gone. Because they're not really there. She's not really there. No matter how much they stare, they don't love her. She'll turn around and they're gone. They're always gone.

She hated them and their stares and their probing fingers and she hated them for making her wet for making her want it. She hated herself for wanting it and for giving in. She was used by them and she used herself. They were inside her, part of her.

Her life was one big fucking porn, every single part of it, because someone was always watching. She was watching. She could feel their eyes inside her and she looked out through them. They were the same thing now, the looks, the eyes, the hands, and her. No one looked any more. No one ever did. But she always thought someone was looking, always believed and hoped and waited for someone to look at her and want to see her naked and want to love her and make her vulnerable and make her cum and never, ever leave her.

No one looked at her. No one ever did. And she knew it, and she hated it. She spent her whole life trying to be perfect so when someone looked, they'd want her. Every movement was calculated just so, every breath was taken waiting for the ones she knew would watch and want and desire and love and lust.

But they never looked at her. Because as soon as they tried, she hid from them and changed into something else, and they could never quite put their fingers or eyes or hands on exactly what she was, because she wasn't. She was scared of them and she didn't understand why she needed them or why they needed her. All she knew was that she hurt sometimes and she was alone and that maybe there was someone who one day would look at her and want her and love her and need her, too.