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Summary
I watched in the mirror as my hand slowly rose up and trailed tentative fingers along the jagged black lines scrawled across my chest. “WHORE.” I looked down at myself, and my hand began shaking uncontrollably. Fear shot through me like a lightning strike, from the top of my scalp down to the flats of my feet. But it was not the vile slur favored by the kind of man who could drug and rape a woman that had tears burning at my aching eyes. No, it was what was written further down, below the soft swell of my lower abdomen and just above the mess of curls between my legs that made my knees weak and my teeth chatter. Not a term of derision, not a word intended to demean or degrade, but a word far more menacing. Far more sinister.
There, centered between my hip bones, was the word “MINE.”