“Cam? …… London?”

They sometimes can’t find you at all if you're small and quiet. Reverting to a child and humming my stupid song like a deranged psychopath. The hand touches me again, and I freak out, lash out and slap as it tries to hold me again in full fury, ready to defend myself to the death if I have to. I won’t let that bastard touch me again. I won’t let anyone do those things to me anymore. Those horrible, painful, inhumane, degrading things. I can’t take ...