TW: SA

My earliest memory was being put on a shelf at Bed, Bath, and Beyond. I was surrounded by other bathroom rugs of all different colors. It was peaceful.

One day, a mother and her son walked in and took me off the shelf. I was nervous about where I was going, but they both seemed lovely enough.

At their home, I was laid out on a cold linoleum floor. Although it was infrequent, the son stood on me when drying off after a shower. I understood this to be my duty; to provide comfort and warmth during those moments.

I’m not sure how long I laid in front of the tub. It seemed like months. I began to feel different. Fungi, although small, began to germinate. They spread over every fiber.

The son must’ve noticed my poor state because he laid down on me to provide a hug of comfort… or so I thought.

The son began feverishly rubbing his naked body on me. It was confusing and didn’t seem right. After a minute of his convulsions, the son stood to grab a bottle of lotion. He poured the cocoa butter scented liquid all over me, matting my shag and ruining my color.

Unable to protest, he began thrusting himself on me, even picking me off the floor to continue the act sitting on the toilet.

He threw me in the outside dumpster after he was finished and dressed. I was covered in blood and lotion. I was ashamed.

He took away my purpose and destroyed my future. I hope he gets what he deserves.