My Blood: A Rape Story

There's a poison drop in this cup of Man.
To drink it is to follow the left-hand path.

I watch my blood swirl with water and go down the drain. It's so pretty. I know the poison is leaving. When there's no more blood it will be over. Forever. He'll be gone.

It's getting darker. Everything's getting darker. No! I don't like it. He only comes for me in the dark. Stop it. No!

"No!"

Complete darkness.

---

I wake up to Mike wrapping my arm in gauze. He's crying. Because of me. I fuck everything up.

His eyes stare into mine. "You've got to stop, Billie Joe. He's not in your blood."

"Where is he?"

"Prison." He's lying. No bars could ever hold you. I see your face everyday. You must have gotten out. Maybe Mike just doesn't know about it yet.

"We're going to see him." he says, finishing with my arm.

"W-What?"

"When you see him, you'll know. You'll know he's not in your blood." Mike kisses my cheek and holds my hand. "He can't hurt you anymore."

You hurt me everyday. You're like poison and it bleeds out. You hurt me and that hurts Mike. You're hurting the only person who ever really loved me.

"I'm scared."

He pulls me into his arms, rocking me and stroking my hair. "I know, baby, I know. I am, too. But this is the only way. The only way, you understand? Closure. A person can't be in two places at once. If he's in prison, he's not in your blood."

"He's always in my blood. He's always in me."

"No." Mike kisses the top of my head. He's warm and I'm freezing. I can hear his breathing. It's smooth. If I close my eyes I can pretend it's just us and there's never been anything else.

"His memory is inside you, Billie Joe. Not him."

Memory, memory. Memories are the only way some people stay alive. Memories are alive. Doesn't Mike know that? Memories are the reason my dad is still alive and Mike's stepdad. Memories aren't pretend. You're alive inside of me. Through a memory.

Poison.

I hurt Mike. When he can't kiss me or when I let my blood go down the drain. When I scream and scratch myself until I bleed and he has to hold me onto the bed while I scream over and over, remembering how you held me down.

He says he loves me. He says he'll do anything to help me. He says it doesn't matter if we ever kiss again. He's lying.

I hate you for it.

Maybe . . . maybe Mike's right. Maybe you're not in my blood. It's always MY blood. My blood that you bit, my blood on your lips, my blood when you tore me. I'm always covered in MY blood, never in your blood. You didn't bleed and the blood never went back into me.

Maybe I'm just bleeding to bleed.

"I-If he's not in my blood, where is he?"

Mike looks at me for a minute, then touches the gauze on my arm. "He's here."

"My blood."

"No. Not your blood, Billie Joe. Your cut. His memory makes you cut. Everytime you cut yourself, it's another piece of him. You're not letting him out, you're letting him in."

"So, he's in my scars?" Scars never fade.

Mike shakes his head. "No. Scars happen when you heal. When you get a scar, your skin closed back up and he can't get in through that cut anymore."

I pull stare at him for a minute. And I smile. I haven't smiled since it happened. Since you happened. But I'm smiling now. "So when it heals, he can't get in anymore?"

"No, baby. He can't."

"No more poison?"

"No more poison. Just you."

"And you."

He smiles then. "And me."

I kiss him. "You and me."

Never you. Never again.

No more poison.