The goven word for today’s microfiction is Throe.
But if I was being honest, I was-
A survivor.
I’d been tortured.
Beaten.
Raped.
And, left for dead
But I fought back.
I took baby steps.
I kept moving forward, never going back.
Yes, I was terrified.
No, I didn't tell anyone what happened.
How could I? They would say I was also to blame.
I shouldn’t have drunk so much.
I shouldn’t have worn a short dress.
I shouldn’t have flirted.
It all happened in the throes of ecstasy.
Which was all a lie.
I will fight to stand tall once again.
Even if I’m slowly dying inside.