The Price

A guest poem from Kitty Jane Smith

Content Warning: Sexual Assault

“No!” He screamed, “stop!
Don’t you know what it could cost?”

And it wasn’t lost on me
The obvious irony

That stop hadn’t stopped him
When he committed to his sin

For when you act, the choice is yours
Like when you called me ‘whore’

When you stole what should be given
Left me broken, trauma ridden

Now there’s metal under moonlight
As I shift to square my aim right

Perhaps he can see my teeth glowing
And my resolute grin growing

Does he realise I’m all in?
Full commitment to my sin?

He tries to rage, to plead, then prayer
Words all swallowed by night air

Before one last desperate threat
In vain to save his worthless head

“You’ll be caught, and then you’re through.
They’ll know and then they’ll come for you.”

I pull the trigger, the night recoils
A new red river cuts through the soil

And I whisper to myself
Now that he’s been sent off to hell

“I may have to pay for what I owe,
But now you will never know.”

Speak now