A word of warning: Please do not read any further if you have made bad childhood experiences with people who trusted you, who abused you, who taking advantage of you, and injured more than your body …
A beam of light wormed one’s way trough the broken attic window and maked to glitter the dancing dust paricles. It smelt dry wood, dust and old papers.
The 8 years old girl watched the pigeons behind bars in the small den. Rather she wasn’t allowed to stay alone at attic. Not one of the kids of the old apartment building were allowed to rummage in the attic. Of course, it was just so very exciting to explore the attic, with its niches, crates, chests, and ancient secrets.
However today Sophie was alone. She squatted in front of the crate pigeons and watched the birds as they sat on the small rods, cleaned their feathers, are puffing up and stuck their heads under their wings to sleep. Some pecked at the grain-scattered, and new pigeons came in through the skylight open-ended, while others shed after a while left. Sophie listening to her cooing and told them about her day. She liked the pigeons, and when she closed her eyes, she was Cinderella – and they were her pigeons.
But then Sophie was no longer alone.
She noticed him too late, he had already closed the door behind him and put the key in his pocket. Slowly he walked up to Sophie and crouched down beside her on the wooden floor. He smelled of beer and cigarettes. Sophie was not afraid, she knew the man. He owned the pigeons. He promised to open the crate, and she would even be able to caress one of doves – later. Sophie was thrilled. The man stroked the girl with the long hair and how his hand accidentally ran over her neck. Sophie giggled because it tickled. The man pulled the girl closer to him. He whispered in her ear that she would like a little princess. His hands were suddenly everywhere on her, stroking the girl’s body and pulled her up the T-shirt.
Sophie did not like that. But he promised to bring the same key for the shed, then they would be able to hold one of the doves in her hand and stroke it, they should now just a bit dear to him. Princesses but are glad he whispered to her repeatedly, and shiver his foul breath read Sophie. Meanwhile, his big hands were between her legs. Slowly he pulled the girl first, tights, then down the Slip. Sophie stiffened and looked frozen to the pigeons in the shed. She sensed that something was not entirely correct. “Do not be afraid”, whispered the man, “men do these things with women when they love to have. You’re almost big princess.” His stinking, foul breath went faster, he was panting and sweating. He turned around to Sophie’s head and pressed his lips on hers. His tongue invaded her mouth. Sophie wanted to retire, but the men they held hands tightly. Sophie tried to turning away her head, and fear crept into her. That was not right! That could not be right! Again, the man pressed his lips to the child’s mouth, and the beer and the cigarette stench Sophie was sick. She tried to push away from the man himself. His tongue was still horrible in it.
….
Finally she was able to retreat a few steps. Almost she had fallen. She quickly put her clothes in order, without letting the man out of his sight. The man got up, he almost seemed undecided what to do next. He grabbed Sophie roughly by the hair and hissed: „If you tell anything about it, I need to kill all the pigeons! That’s our little secret! But you like the doves? You do not mean that I kill them?
Sophie shook her head, unable to say anything.
Without a word, the man who unlocked the attic door and Sophie also slipped.
…
She had no idea that she would cry until 30 years later. Her kisses were murdered on that afternoon in the attic. They were taken away. She never kissed in her life. She wished she could learn at least once a kiss, just as the prince is kissing his princess.
