The Fics Get It All Wrong

I don't write often although my therapist tries to get me to. I don't always have the energy for it. And when I do, I pour my heart out but for what? To feel like I'm talking to an empty room. I need to know that someone else knows. Somebody ordinary. Somebody I'm not paying to listen to me. I would try a support forum but who there is going to want to hear all the gory details of my crap when they've got all their own to deal with? And it almost certainly will be detailed and triggering.

Journal Entry 08/03/2016 - Just had to get this off my chest today, I guess.It occurred about 6 years ago but it still bothers me sometimes.
Present tense, Second-person Perspective (You)
WARNING: detailed description of dubious/non-consensual sex acts between live-in partners.

It's a horrible, dull, scorching pain that seems to take over and fill up your lower abdomen. There's no single place it can be felt or pinpointed as "where" the pain is. It's the entire area, all at once. Everything below the belly button, front and back, just lights up with the pain. It leaches into the stomach and makes you sick. Then there's the stinging trail being carved through the middle of it all, that you know is the cause but almost takes a back seat. At first, anyway. The ache and piercing take turns and with each turn, the sting becomes a burn and then dry, searing, tearing until it's built into an impossible pain that focuses your mind on just one thing: it needs to stop.

But you aren't there yet. It's only just begun. It started with a pressure against your groin or your breast. A heavy paw pressed into one of your erogenous zones. You are instantly wide awake but you pretend to be asleep still. You roll over, away from the offending hand. It pursues you. You grumble sleepily and push it away. It comes back. You push again but this time it won't budge. You push harder but the hand remains. You sigh inwardly, a familiar sadness and frustration settles in your chest at the same time your pulse picks up in fearful anticipation. If you tell him no he'll be angry and you'll have that to deal with for at least the next full day without the guarantee that it will deter him even that long. You need to focus on work this week and If you just let it happen, it's usually over quickly and relatively painlessly. Sometimes, you even manage to find a little pleasure in it if you can shut your mind down enough.

But you can tell as soon as he gets started it's not going to be one of the usual times. The hands are rough, pulling, pushing, pinching and slapping. You think, this time, maybe it won't be so bad. You try to be quiet and endure it. You think at first, this can be withstood. It won't last forever. In fact, relatively speaking, it won't last long at all. A few minutes, a quarter of an hour at most since there's just one. You're not even that worried about it. But the pain cycles rapidly, every cycle lasting no more than a second, you think. You have no time to acclimate to either the ache or the burn. And by the third or fourth wave, you can't force yourself to remain relaxed anymore, which makes the pain so much worse. You don't understand why your body won't listen to you. You know remaining calm and relaxed will make it easier on you but your body is overpowering your will. You were so sure you'd last longer than this. You try to focus on making it feel good. You didn't want it, the pain won't stop, but if you can find just a little pleasure in it, it will help you ride out the pain. For a second, you think it will work but in the next moment the pain blows that tiny bit of pleasure you were able to find completely out of your mind.

Your muscles are cramping, you start involuntarily trying to put even the tiniest distance between yourself and the source of the pain. If you're able, you press your hand to your stomach and try to help brace against the pain so that the muscles won't have to work so hard but it doesn't help as much as you think it should. No matter how quiet you think you can be, grunts and moans and gasps of pain begin to escape through closed lips and clenched teeth. Your mind screams, "You can't take this! Make it stop! It has to stop!" And you yell back "Yes I can!" Just so that you won't panic because panic is loss of control. Panic leads to fighting and indomitable fear and passive aggressive backlash for days to come.

You find yourself mumbling "I can't" and "It hurts" but you focus on the sound of your voice rather than the words, the feeling of your weight on your locked elbows, the bedding in front of your eyes and trying not to fight back.. reminding yourself that you will be fine, there will be no lasting damage, it will be over soon. And then it is. It's over; the screaming pain spikes for a moment that lasts far too long and then settles to a dull tired ache... from a 10 to a 4 or 5 on the pain scale and you are so relieved that you don't even mind the residual pain. In that moment, it barely registers as pain at all.

You just want to curl up and go back to sleep but you're not done. You have to pretend like everything is good. He gets up and goes to the bathroom to wash up, smiling and happy. You follow him there and he laughs at you as you hobble and your knees shake and you struggle to stand up straight. You laugh with him and find something self-deprecating but sort of humorous to say. He says, "See, that wasn't too bad" and slaps your backside as you pass him to get in the shower.

"You're right, it was kind of fun," you lie because the sooner he is out of the room, the sooner you can relax and take care of yourself. And because you need to believe that what just happened, didn't happen.