Captive

 

                            Captive

The first time to tell my story is a fright.

I’m the special speaker at A. A. tonight.

My sponsor says  it will be alright.

As I start my story I’m a little uptight.

For me it started in my teenage years.

No, not drinking or drugs. Not even beer.

I was a straight girl. Nothing less.

I was a virgin, as you might guess.

It happened as I was walking home.

I was grabbed from behind. I was alone.

I was thrown into the back of a van.

I was given chloroform by the man.

When I awoke I was locked in a room.

Mattress on the floor there in the gloom.

Bars on the window. The door was locked.

A bucket in the corner to use as a pot.

After awhile, the man came into the room.

“You’re my sex slave” said the goon.

I remember my thoughts as he stripped me bare.

What will I tell my teddy bear??

That first time hurt so bad I prayed he would stop.

Finally he got up. I was glued to the spot.

No sooner had he left than another came in.

Then the whole thing started again.

I won’t go into detail what all they did to me.

Let your imagine run wild, then you might see.

After almost a month the police broke in.

They took me from that house of sin.

To me, it seemed like a year or more.

I was frozen to my very core.

I have been asked how I survived.

It was a miracle I was even alive.

All I remember to fill the void.

I became an organic robitoid.

I went through the motions  they said to do.

Inside I thought— I am dead to you.

I had no emotional response.

A machine, moving only to their taunts.

Months of therapy didn’t help my gloom.

I lived with my parents, mostly in my room.

I rarely came out. I hated crowds.

I ate in my room. Often I cried out loud.

My dad gave me some wine once with dinner.

He said “Deep inside I know you’re a winner.”

I felt a little better after a drink or two.

Then I knew exactly what I’d do.

There was a liquor store near the house.

I would sneak out quiet as a mouse.

Cover myself up good with clothes.

All you could see was just my nose.

I was soon buying wine by the case.

Hiding the empties all over the place.

After 2-3 bottles of wine a day,

things seemed to be, almost, o.k.

Then, one day, while watching TV

It was like they were talking about me.

It was a program about alcohol abuse.

I was killing myself just to feel loose.

I said no,— I could stop if I wanted to.

So I told myself no to the booze.

Soon, I was shaking and sick as hell.

I told my folks I didn’t feel well.

I confessed all my drinking to them.

Asked them to take me to detox then.

I detoxed and started in a program.

Got a sponsor and said I’d show them.

I stayed sober and worked the steps.

Now, I’m telling all, how my life was a mess.

How I was captive of my own devices.

But, now, I really know what nice is.

I’d been captive to a sick sexual nut.

It was hard, but, I got out of that rut.

To sum it up as to what it means to me.

Thank God. Now I am finally free!!

 

A quiet hush fell over the place.

There was hardly a dry eye in the place.

As I stepped down everyone did clap

People were hugging me and patting my back.

I felt welcome. I felt loved.

I give all thanks to God above————–R. W. Johnson——(2011)