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I moved into a house,
A refuge, a place to heal,
Among friends and laughter,
A space that should feel real.
He was kind at first,
A step-brother, nothing more.
But shadows lurked in silence,
Behind a friendly door.
One night I felt his presence,
Eyes piercing through the dark,
Watching me in slumber,
His gaze a chilling mark.
I thought it was a nightmare,
A fleeting, fragile fear,
But his hand reached in the night,
And the truth became too clear.
I froze, I fought, I shattered,
The walls that made me safe.
Each touch stole pieces of me,
Leaving cracks I couldn't trace.
Then came the heated moment,
When anger met his grip,
A force that screamed of power,
A darkness I couldn't slip.
But I am not his shadow,
I'm the light that he can't claim.
A voice that won't be silenced,
A spirit he can't maim.
I write to heal the fractures,
To name the scars I bear.
This is my truth, my power,
A story I'll declare.
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