The Hungering

She does not notice him watching her with her friends.
At late o’clock he swoops, grinning, then kissing her intently
lotharioesque, appearing from the peripheral shadows of the bar.
She’s kissing back like the vodka tells her to, as if she desires him,
a “Rookie cop” he tells her, “From out of town, here for a night out.”
So he says.
Boyish playfulness floods his green eyes, sincerity sugar-coats his voice.
So she imagines.
Scribbling her number on a napkin now – guys like him expect that;
he’ll likely lose it anyway, and she’ll forget him before she’s asleep.
Another liquor-drenched sultry kiss, longer, hotter; then he’s gone.
Sexy moments with strangers after cocktails pale into moonlight;
she’ll never see him again and it doesn’t matter, she doesn’t care.
But he calls the next day; it’s his weekend off, he wants to see her.
He picks her up; a shy kiss “hello” – it’s different in daylight, sober.
They walk in a park, talking, laughing, in the sunshine.
Suddenly, he’s feeling unwell, this man she just met
“I’m okay,” he reassures her, “I just need to lie down.”
Back at her place, leaving him resting upstairs awhile,
she’s pensive, uncertain, what should she do to help?
He calls to her now.
Flying upstairs, two at a time, she races to check on him.
But it is a ploy, his own evil recipe of calculated deception.
Stupid girl, how did she not recognize his manipulative plan?
Giving her no time to think, he’s pulling her down on the bed,
spitefully victorious, before harshly crushing his lips onto hers;
his body tells her he came here to fuck her, not to talk pleasantries.
Nausea-flavoured panic swells in her throat, as his ‘truth’ is exposed.
She’s been tricked and harmed before; it makes her fierce, wild with fury.
Adrenaline surging, she wrests herself free, emotions in flames.
She is not a plaything.
She shall not acquiesce.
She need not justify herself.
Spitting her words out ruthlessly, like splintered glass: “Get out. Now.”
This once, she will not spare her body, or her time
for the hungering of a beast and his inhumanity.

Photo Credit: jerseytom55 Flickr via Compfight cc

Judith Staff

Judith Staff’s background is in teaching and early years education. She still teaches occasionally, though now her main focus is in child welfare and safeguarding children. Her work includes delivering training, presenting at conferences, and engaging in collaborative projects with schools around child abuse awareness and sexual violence prevention. She enjoys writing blogs and poetry on topics she feels passionate about. Judith loves running, gym classes and karate. She is married to an art lecturer and they live in Northamptonshire, England with their three free-spirited children, a 12- year-old son, and daughters aged 11 and 9.

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