I was a child! Only six years old. Sure, maybe I wasn't supposed to be there that day, but neither were you. So how dare you! How dare you touch and traumatize a little girl. Do you have any idea what you've done? I couldn't handle it, so my mind broke in order to take care of me. I lived for 15 years wondering why I believed I was worthless, tainted, imperfect. Then, when I was finally able to admit to myself that I could see a glimmer of beauty in myself--both inner and outer--when I finally managed that. I remembered. I found out how my own mind had been protecting me, and all my progress--everything I had put years into, my countless tears, all my excruciatingly hard emotional work--after all that...
I remembered you.
I remembered your hands. Your mouth. Your fingers. All of them touching caressing that which you had no right to even dare take. Do you even realize how much terror you put into me? How much doubt? Do you even regret your actions? Do you regret breaking a small, helpless girl?
You, sir, have scarred me deeper than words can describe. My very inner being aches and throbs as though hundreds of blades have pierced me and they cannot be removed. Can you imagine the pain? It's overwhelming. My body wracks with sobs when I don't block it out, if I think about it.
I close my eyes to find peace as I sleep, but I can see your silhouette, your vest, your orange hat. It's as though I have to submit to your abuse before being allowed the luxury of sleep. I close my eyes and your hands are on me again, in me again. I hate it.
And I begin to hate myself, because some small part of me enjoyed it. I disgust myself. I feel impure, dirty, used, thrown aside. And it's your fault.
You used me like a disposable object. You preyed on me multiple times, then threw me away when you had your fill. Like trash, garbage, refuse. I grew up believing that about myself.
If this wasn't enough, you planted that cruel lie as you whispered in my ear... "If you tell... No one will believe you..." Was breaking me not enough?! Why did you have to plant doubt in me! Victims don't usually tell about their abuse. So why did you feel this was necessary?!
You screwed my live over! I am a mess, an emotional train wreck. Why did you do it? For a moment's pleasure?
I hope you burn in Hell.
Dear Yomi,
ReplyDeleteI wish you were around so I could talk with you, give you a hug, and try to convince you that it's alright. I also wish I had known you back then to help you through this. I know you all have been hurt and it makes me sad and angry that anyone could hurt another person. I hope when you come back we can be friends. And Morrigan if your reading this, I'm fine. This has definetly filled in some of the gaps you, understandably, left out.