Tracey is sitting on her bed, next to her is a wooden box, she is staring at it.
TRACEY: Thirteen is such a young age to understand the ways of the world, I used to wonder why people said that? Two years ago I was thirteen, but I wasn't too young to understand, what my father and his friends were doing to me. I wasn't too young to realise that it was wrong. I was only too young to realise why? Why did it happen? Why is it still happening?
She takes the lid off of the box and rolls up her sleeve.
TRACEY: If there was a cure for paedophiles, I wonder if he would take it? I hope he would, but his eyes, enjoyment is all I see in them. When it happens I leave, run out the door, my mind disappears. I tell myself, leave or... (Pause). Or die inside this way. One hour of my life everyday is all they take. I can handle it, can't I?
She pulls a knife from the box, she stares, fixated on it.
TRACEY: He laughs every time I do this. 'You stupid girl' he says. His laugh is so piercing it tries to penetrate me. I wont let it.
She holds the knife on her left arm.
TRACEY: These are my scars! Caused by my own hand. He may try to affect my mind, but I affect my body. I am in control of what I show on the outside not him, never him!
Tracey cuts herself. A moment later she takes a cloth from the box and wipes the knife, she places them both back in the box and closes it. She leaves the cut to bleed and rolls her sleeve back down.
By Zelee
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