Blurry Lights

No one warns you. No one is there to hold up a sign warning you not to go there, or do that. No one warned me. But I’m here to warn you.
See that man over there? Yes, the tall dark and handsome one. Watch him for a second, it could show at any moment.
There! Did you see it? That look in his eye, followed by him licking his lower lip when he saw that girl walk by? No one noticed; no one cares to be truthful; that is, until the last second if they are his next victim.
You see, you and I are a lot alike, just a perfectly normal pedestrian on the street. We have friends, family good grades, or at least have the connection of writing to look at if not those.
I’m a bit different though. I have this….thing against people touching me. And remember the man we studied earlier? Yes, well he used my fear against me.
Why he chose me, I’ll probably never find out. He could’ve chosen the lady you see smoking in front of her house everyday on her porch, or maybe the girl with glasses who’s younger then you who always has a soccer ball with her, or he could’ve even chosen you.
But if you are one of the people who consider themselves unlucky, you are very lucky. If you are already one of those who already are lucky, feel it even more.
Why are you so lucky you ask? Well hun, it’s because that man didn’t chose me to try his new ice cream flavor, or star in his new teen magazine. He chose me to rape me.
~
See, it all happened just as every story starts; with an accident.
My accident happened suddenly, and uncontrollably. But who can control theirs at all?
The year of 2005; I will not say where, for he has done this to many other girls all over and I speak for all of them. For me it was middle summer. As every teen at my age, I couldn’t stand family as much and was always out or locked in my room. Unlike most teens, I didn’t spend times with friends when I was out, and never owned a cell phone in my short life.
I was a writer.
Tragedies and sin filled stories I weaved for those who would take a chance to listen. I didn’t know I would live in my own tragedy.
I just happened to be with my whole family at the beginning of my day. I was sitting there, being quiet just as my parents asked, not doing anything as my relatives came and go. But one uncle on my father’s side was watching me all morning, and I barely noticed.
You could easily tell he was drunk, from what I do not know for there was no alcohol here. Most of my family knew I was afraid of being touched, but he apparently did not, or forgot.
I remember clearly he staggered over to me, with no one really noticing.
He asked what my name was and if I stayed around here often. I just chuckled and walked off, thinking he would remember in the morning. That was my first mistake. He whipped my around by my arm and I screamed because his skin touching mine felt horribly wrong.
He jumped back, but still stood close to me. His breath reeked of alcohol and something else I couldn’t place. He whispered in my ear ‘don’t walk away from me bitch……’ and he tried to grab me again. I kicked him and ran; my second mistake.
I didn’t think of what he said to me, or what he wanted. I only thought about him trying to touch me. It made me sick to my stomach and made adrenaline rush through me. He chased me, and now people were noticing. I ran into my house, and found myself in the kitchen.
He came up behind me and wrapped his arm around my waist. The next thing I did ended all my dreams; from being normal, to my family being proud of me.
I grabbed what was closest to me, and stabbed him with it; a knife; right in the heart.
No one listened as they all filed in, with him lying on the floor, his blood on my hands and seeping from him. They wouldn’t listen as I explained my side and that it was him touching me, and he wouldn’t stop, and I didn’t mean to. They didn’t care. They said I killed him. He was only drunk.
My own family turned against me. They turned me in without listening.
~
I spent a month in a detention center, people asking why I did it, but I could tell from the look in their eyes all they saw was a crazy girl who killed her drunken uncle for touching her. But then I met him. The man we talked about in the beginning.
I thought he was just going to say ‘send her of to prison boys!’ but he sat, and he listened, and I didn’t see the signs. Even the signs I wrote about in my own stories, I didn’t notice.
The doctors before him said I had Haphephobia or Haptephobia, fear of being touched, be he didn’t use it as harsh. He said many people had it and it was ok. That he didn’t see why I was here because it was just a self defense move I made. He said it all with a smile, and I fell for it.
But one day, he said he needed to do ‘tests’ to see how bad my phobia was. Of course I said yes.
He started on my shoulder. I didn’t care much; I was attracted to him a bit, so I just closed my eyes and let him. But soon his hands were on my breasts and squeezing and pulling me. I gasped and told him to stop. He just stared at his hands moving me and kept going.
It felt good to me, so I just let him, for hey. It was a test, and I was letting him touch me. It’s a good improvement for me.
What I didn’t like soon was that one of his hands made its way into my shirt. I told him to stop or I would call for the guards.
‘Doors locked and they can’t hear you’ was his reply. That’s when I noticed something was very wrong. I backed away from him, fear ripping through me it almost hurt. He had a small grin on his lips and he licked his lower lip. Remember that? He did that before when I was with him, but I didn’t take any notice. I did now.
I backed into a table that strapped patients down for surgeries or other hospital uses.
‘Great idea’ he said to me and forcefully shoved me down onto it.
‘No! No please!’ I said fighting back a bit.
His hand went to my breasts again and he squeezed as I gasped and stopped; he chuckled.
I just closed my eyes and let the tears role down my face. The air felt like ice as he slid of my shirt. He laid me down on the metal table and cuffed my wrists to it. My arms were above my head so my whole chest was bare. He kept staring at me, and I could see he was enjoying this.
He got on top of me, and sat on my lower legs. ‘Virgin?’ he whispered so low I could barely hear him. I just turned my head and cried harder. Why would he do this? He knows I don’t like people touching me….
He stuck his hands down my pants and instantly put a finger in me. I screamed and tried to kick him but he laughed. It wasn’t that he was in me. He was touching me!
‘See. This test proves people like you do like being touched…..’ He strapped my feet in and got of me. He put his head down to his fingers in me and started darting his tongue darting in and out of me. I bucked my hips. I hated him for doing this to me. He was touching me; but my body couldn’t resist. I shivered and just began crying again.
A few minutes later he was in me, and pumping me. But I wasn’t moaning. I just laid there and took it. Above me the noises he made should’ve turned me on, but I was disgusted. He whispered dirty things to me, telling me I was so tight and wet, when all I could do was cry.
It made him mad. He said I shouldn’t have cried. That he was going to punish me for it. I just laid there. I couldn’t do anything. I was broken and bruised and I didn’t care. My own stories came to life.
He yelled and hit me; everywhere. My face, my stomach, my ribs, I was coughing up blood as he got more turned on as he hurt me. He moaned to himself as I drifted in and out of conciseness.
I woke one last time, and sobbed, my whole body shaking. He took me. I trusted the man I thought could help me. But he made me a slut. I didn’t see him anywhere, so I cursed and screamed at him for doing this.
I heard him coming back and I was still on the table. I tried moving, but it was no use.
I closed my eyes. It was all I could do. I ignored him as he yelled at me and I didn’t do as he said. What I didn’t notice, was that he had a gun in his hand.
He shot me. And he cleaned everything up to make it look like he did it to save himself form me wanting to rape him, explaining the bruises on my body. Everyone believed him. I was just a crazy girl. No one cared.
~
So you see? He used it against me, so if you meet him, keep your weakness to yourself. If you meet anyone, keep them to yourself. What happened to me should never have to happen again to anyone in the world, even if they have a rough past or are set for a troublesome future.
The last thing I wanted in life was this to happen, so that’s why I’m warning you. Don’t be scared or taken back. I just wanted my story out, and all those others who have been raped and have had no one listen or believe them.
So go ahead. Look into the blurry lights of the world, and let the rain fall and don’t care. Just live life, and think about the people around you, and warn others as I have warned you.