That’s when the Game began.

Maybe not right away.

His arm around my shoulders

his fingers at the edge of my bra,

it pulled all my atoms apart

then dropped them into stasis.

Weeks passed

and months,

everything that made me

who I am

rearranged,

like Dr. Manhattan in the test chamber

put back together as something

not quite human.

I saw on Tumblr that people with trauma

will sometimes reexpose themselves to trauma

over and over until they think they understand what happened.

I don’t know why I play the Game.

I understand what happened.

My biology teacher hurt me

and if I was smarter I could find a clever metaphor

about chemistry that tells why and how

but the simplest way to say it is that

I was a student but he saw a rabbit

and no one will believe me

because he’s the most

beloved wolf in school.