****WARNING!! : Strong language and Situations****

I remember this day it remains deep in my subconscious,
the memory quite vivid.
The pain, the suffering, the situation a shamble. Our bodies came out livid.
Battered and bruised, ridiculed and abused our clothes they tore.
My friend and I were violated, we were engulfed with sadness forevermore.
I look back and I knew it was coming. I seen it before it was to start.
I deem myself responsible.I guess I played my part.
My friend had a boyfriend he was in a different crew,
He said “come to my house I even have something for you”
We wanted grog, so we went for a drive. And we were asked a question?
Can you be faithful? It’s his girlfriend he forgot to mention.
At the mere age of fifteen. We were young yet we were old.
We walked through the door and it suddenly got cold.
They wouldn’t buy us coke, so we drank Southern Comfort straight instead,
It wasn’t until we slurred and stumbled until they asked us for head.
We treated it as a joke and kept laughing and saying no,
But they said we will do anything to you, we will not let you go.
They gave us an ultimatum we clearly had no choice.
“We will do what we won’t or I’ll take away your voice”
I declined the proposition, so they wrapped a belt around my neck.
They pulled tight.
I lost conscience for a few seconds. I even lost my sight.
I woke to see my friend in a corner being touched by 3 men.
I couldn’t take it anymore. This couldn’t happen again.
A different group! A different life!
I realized they were worse and I was in more fucking strife.
I ran and I ran, breaking through the front door.
Leaving with a broken bra feeling like a whore.
I stopped halfway down the street, and realized my friend was still inside.
I took a deep breath and turned around. I swallowed all my pride.
I walked slowly into the house and I opened up the door.
I cried internally. My friend wouldn’t be my friend anymore.
They had her chained to the bed with a collar around her neck.
This was not right.
I closed my eyes and lay down. Not once putting up a fight.
I lay next to her. She held my hand. We cried together as we lay still.
We were sex machines, not by choice nor by will.
After they were done. I lost control and took the biggest one.
I got in his face. And screamed abuse. Too late he had already one.
Today 12 years on, I see his dad from time to time
And I wonder weather if knows his son is capable of such crime?

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