His eyes

There are moments when I see his eyes.
Like wolves, blue, cold, round and ever watchful.
Frozen. Empty.
I remember not just the shade or shape, but the emotion which sat beneath them
A hunger for the hunt. A fixation on his prey.
Stillness which brings shudders to my spine, as I knew what came next.
Silence, as his eyes narrowed on me. And I knew.
I knew then I would have to shut my eyes and pretend.
I knew that he was going to fuck me.
I knew that he was going to hurt me, in so many ways.

I remember the opening of a closet door, wrapped in darkness, tied till it cut me raw,
I remember them two, blue eyes appearing and I wished I could stay in there instead.
I remember feeling numb, like in winter when snow hides everything we love.
So numb my tears froze before they had a chance to melt upon my cheek.

These memories haunt me.
I was numb for years. I pretended every single day it never happened.
And now I remember.

I remember.

And I cry, to warm my heart.