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When trust is broken, you feel it in a snap. A visceral, solid moment, a clear dividing line. There is everything that happened before this moment, and everything that happened after. The moment itself lives forever, a breathing reminder of exactly how it was your life came to have two phases. In some cases, it’s light. Recoverable, even. After years and years of “personal growth” and “self care” you can finally come to realize that maybe the person cheated on you for their own reasons, and not because of a flaw with you. Maybe the person who wasn’t there for you was dealing with their own troubles, and would have been there if they could have. Such things seem impossibly large at first, but fade with time and perspective to simply be patches of scars on skin healed closed, a map showing where you had been, and what could no longer hurt you. With these, you can learn to trust again. Slowly, painfully, but you can learn how to trust, and life will go on.
But sometimes, healing is a luxury you can never have, and no amount of time, or money, or therapy can reach down into what you’ve experienced and even begin the process of healing, because the blades cutting into your skin are still there, digging their way into the walls of your flesh, hunting down your organs one by one to consume them. Your liver. “Alcoholism,” they say. But you know it was the blades. You’ve tracked their progress through your guts since the day they were put in, you knew exactly when your liver would die, and no amount of drinking would change that. They left your heart alone. You needed your heart to feel. They went for your stomach. You wasted away, year after year, as you only eat when you’re so hungry you begin to feel pain. You used to love eating. Your mind. They carved their paths into your skull, leaving bloody gashes across your life, coloring all your memories just a bit red in the process.
None of that exists for you in this moment, though. In this moment, there is no “after” waiting for you. There’s nothing that exists beyond the now, your senses racing. What do you feel? Heart racing in your chest, pain in the back of your head from when it connected with the wall, burning eyes from tears, tightness, your wrists pressed together, gripped by.. your older sister. What is happening. Focus. Five senses. What do you taste? Blood in my mouth. Tastes of pennies. Good. What do you smell? Sweat. Pungent, almost. Sexual. Had she always smelled this good? WHAT ARE YOU THINKING. WHAT IS WRONG WITH YOU.
Thoughts. Control them. What do you see? Your sister, in front of and above you. You were on your knees, looking up at her. Her cock was out. It was right in your face oh my god why was it out why was it in your face what is she doing. She looks angry. She’s screaming. Final sense. What do you hear?
“FUCKING EASY STREET BITCH. I cannot fucking believe you came to me to whine because some rando online told you to kill yourself. I had mom and dad tell me to fucking kill myself, and you don’t see me fucking sobbing about that, do you?” Her eyes flashed and her cock twitched as she looked down. “Their favorite fucking son, huh.” That hurt. She hadn’t. She wouldn’t. That was a bridge too far and she knew it. But she just kept going like it didn’t even matter. “As soon as you come out of your velvet lined closet, suddenly their firmly held and dearly loved transphobic shit was ‘Old predjudices they could learn to forget’ instead of ‘their right to religion.’” She looked down at you with so much pain in her eyes you wanted to reach out and apologize, to hold her, to do anything to help your sister. And then you remembered her cock was there in front of you and snapped back into the moment.
“You have the fucking AUDACITY to rat me out to them about my goddamn girlfriend, who is only in her twenties, mind you, and I’m a fucking adult by any metric exept legal, so you had no goddamn right.” She slaps you with the back of her hand, hard. Your teeth leave a cut on her hand. She puts it in her mouth and lightly sucks off the blood, mumbling. “Fucking bitch.”
She leans back, still holding you on your knees by virtue of twisting her fingers deep in your hear. You both knew at that depth if you struggled too much, it would start pulling individual hairs out of the follicles, leaving you quite quickly bald, something you both knew would make you extremely dysphoric, as your hair was one of the only features you genuinely liked about yourself. So you didn’t struggle. “Then, you make those fuckers keep me here so you don’t have to stay alone while they’re gone, and I learn the whole reason you didn’t want to be alone was one little anonymous death threat?” She looked down at you, absolutely livid. She also looked hungry. “I could have been off fucking my girlfriend, but you didn’t know how fucking good you had it, so now I guess you get to take her fucking place.” She looks down at you at twitches her cock once, in front of your face. A slight smirk, followed by grabbing your face and spitting on you. “Open wide.”
You try to stop her, to say “no” and don’t realize your mistake until it’s too late. The moment you open your mouth, she digs her fingers into your cheeks, forcing your mouth to stay open as she attempts to thrust in one smooth movement down your throat. Her fingers holding your mouth open helped, as did the gasp when her cock slid between your lips, but you had never sucked cock before, and she was bigger than your throat was prepared for right away. She hit a wall, and thankfully, backed off, only to immediately thrust again, slamming her head against your throats resistance. Again and again and again again again again again your head was swimming and your vision was blurring as you choked and you heard “We both know this is what kind of porn you like anyway, pervert.” And you hated to realize that she was right and you were hard and her hands caressing your face felt nice and you had always fantasized about sucking cock an---- IT WASN’T SUPPOSED TO BE LIKE THIS.
You blinked through tears as your throat was repeatedly invaded, every push making your throat a little weaker, a little closer to being a sleeve with no resistance. It would hurt, but if you strained your hardest you could breathe through your nose, and as you tried to breathe a final slam and a wet slurp and the muscles in your throat finally gave in and your sister hilted her cock into you, your nose pinned into her neatly trimmed bush being your only source of breath as she breathed an amount that almost felt like rubbing in how easy it was for her to breathe as she moaned and writhed her thighs around your cheeks and your eyes rolled into the back of your head and your vision swam and you felt so light and then a clammy descent back into reality as she pulled out of your throat and you could breathe through ragged coughing but before you could even react she had slammed back into your throat, filling you quickly and roughly, pulling in and out and fucking into you immediately again with a quick rhythm, allowing just enough air to avoid total asphyxiation but never enough to breath well.
“Oh fuck your throats good, did you fucking lie to me about being a virgin you bitch?” Again and again she slammed into you, never looking away from your eyes. “We’re supposed to tell each other everything.” You couldn’t believe what you were hearing. Was.. Was she guilt-tripping you while she mercilessly fucked your throat? “It’s really your fault things like this happen, you just don’t communicate, like mom.” You blinked away tears and shuddered as you realized she had stopped talking and thrusting and was instead holding you down and twitching and moaning and her toes were curling and it tasted thick and creamy and salty in the back of your throat and warm and wet in your stomach as she gasped and tensed and pulled at your hair and it was everything you had dreamed of and a page from your worst nightmares and it HURT and all you could smell and taste and see and feel and hear was her. And as you cried you hated yourself because you had never been more betrayed and the worst part was how you were harder than you had ever been able to get since starting estrogen and the simple brush of your shorts against it threatened to be enough to make you cum.
You hated yourself for that. Still do. Always will. It was the moment that shattered every ounce of trust you could ever have for your sister. It was the moment you lost your innocence. It was the moment that kept you from sleeping at night. It was the moment you realized that no one in the entire world could ever love you as much as your sister must, because she wanted you so badly, she would take you, and damn the consequences. And there were none, for her. You never came forward. Never said anything. It remained a secret. Because you were too ashamed to admit otherwise.