Status: Active Once More
The Girl Who Cried Rape
Speak Up
It is one of those nights, you know the ones where no matter how tired you are you just can’t sleep. Ever elusive, sleep is slipping through my grasp as I desperately reach for it, only to no avail. It is one of those nights where I am tired yet wide awake. It is my most hated kind of night.
So in my ever awake yet oh so tired state I do something stupid, something I can only face when I am like this, awake and sad, so very, very sad. I roll out of bed my bare feet hitting the fluffy carpet. I fall to my knees and reach under my bed. I want to stop but I can’t.
I reach and search for the box I am looking for, the small box that holds all my reminders. I know it is stupid and dangerous to my mental health but I just can’t help myself. I want to see the box. No, I need to see the box and its contents.
When my hand grazes it my heart skips an entire beat, not in fear but rather in anticipation, anticipation for the pain that will follow. I grab the box and pull it out from my hiding spot underneath my large bed.
The small cardboard box stares back at me, nonthreatening as ever, it is the contents that threaten me and my sanity. They threaten all the work I have been doing, how lately I have found myself feeling not so overwhelming sad, but something different, something akin to happiness, something wonderful.
I threaten all that now and I am no longer sure this is such a good idea. Only I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to. I’m not sure I care anymore. I pull open the flaps, my hands graze the fabric of a pretty white lace dress, one burned into my memory, a shiver runs up and down my spine.
The pretty dress, a beautiful creation I fell in love with the moment I saw it shopping with Tamara, reminds me of how excited I was to go to Clark McCrery’s party that Friday night. I flip over the dress and ignore the ripped fabric and red stain near the crotch, it really is a nice dress, it is such a shame it had to get ruined I think numbly.
I put the dress on the ground next to me. I squint into the box in the darkness of my room, the only light coming from the moon high in the sky, and pull out a pair of simple pink panties. My heart skips a beat as I hold the flimsy fabric, no way they could have stopped what happened that night. I trace the hole at the top of the underwear where with force the fabric ripped from the elastic. They have a small love heart on the left bum cheek and they were my absolute favourite.
I stare at the stains, the blood red stains, and try to contain the multitude of emotions that overcome me. I feel shame, guilt and embarrassment. I feel a loss for the pretty clothes and my favourite underwear, but mostly I feel loss for myself.
It is strange, like the thought never truly occurred to me. As I stare at the semen and blood mixed together in a horrifying concoction on my underwear, everything hits me at once. I realise I didn’t just lose my old life, friends and virginity but I lost an important part of myself, the part that loved freely and trusted easily.
The old Ryan is gone… forever.
I am no longer sure who I am and the thought is completely sobering, I blink back tears. I hate these clothes I want suddenly to get rid of them, forever. I shove them back in the box however because they are the only proof I have of what really happened that night. The only proof I have that that night isn’t a figment of my imagination, the only proof I have that I was raped.
At the bottom of the box sits a dead rose and a small card, I hold it with shaking hands the words already burned into my memory.
Ryan,
Thanks for last night. I had a blast.
Love Seth,
I shove the card back in the box and shove the box under my bed and crawl to my window. In a desperate need for air and space I climb to the roof. I stand precariously on the edge, the roof tiles digging into my bare feet. I do not want to look down because I know I will be disappointed; I do not want to see how close the ground is.
I pretend for a moment that if I were to step off I will fly away. Fly far from this nightmare I call life. That I wouldn’t fall and hurt myself, I want to believe I would die. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore but I don’t know how not to. I inch closer to the edge, my feet gripping the roof tiles. I will not die if I take one more step but the pain might be nice.
“Ryan,” A voice yells snapping me out of my thoughts, I look down and realise I am about to jump off the roof, seeing Eric staring at me with a look of pure terror on his face, like my death might mean something to him.
“I want to jump” I tell him, I have no idea why it is that I share this with him but I do, I desperately need to get these words off my chest,
“Don’t Ryan, don’t jump. You can beat this”
A tear slips from my pale face and I dangle my leg off the edge, I don’t want to just to jump but it is not because Eric is standing below me with hope on his pretty face but because I know the roof is not high enough to do real damage, to kill me.
“Don’t you get it?” I whisper almost in realisation, “It’s already won”
“Don’t say that Ryan,”
“Go to sleep Eric, everything will make sense in the morning,”
“I’m not leaving you Ryan,” He keeps saying my name almost in an effort to tether me to this world, to him.
“Everything will make sense in the morning,” I repeat my earlier sentiment,
“What are you talking about?” Eric asks, I hear a window open and freeze. I do not want to be caught up here, my parents will know exactly what I am doing and will realise that my ‘accident’ was not really an accident.
Eric climbs the trellis on the side of the house next to my window like he was done once before. I watch him with guarded eyes, “My mum used to say never make a big decision before bed because everything will make more sense in the morning everything will be clearer”
Eric sits down and I watch him for a moment before I follow suit. No one sees us and I am beyond grateful as I hear the opened window close. Eric grabs my hand and it sends a shock wave through my body, but I don’t really mind.
“I’ve been listening to the Ramones,” Eric says still holding my hand, he does not stroke it or anything he just simply holds it. It is reassuring and reminds me of when my father would hold my hand as a child to cross the street.
“What songs do you like?” I ask
“Blitzkrieg Bop and Sheena is a punk rocker”
“Why?”
“We listened to them together” I frown at Eric, it is such a stupid reason to like a song but I am too tired to question it, with Eric here my eyes flutter closed. “Go to bed Ryan,” Eric whispers,
I open my eyes partly as he helps me climb down to my bedroom window, he waits at my window holding on to the trellis with one hand and guiding me with the other, he leans in, “Good night Ryan,” For a stupid millisecond I think he is going to kiss me and for an even smaller second I think I am okay with it. I instantly back away startled and stare at him.
I need to stop spending so much time with Eric, he is confusing me.
So in my ever awake yet oh so tired state I do something stupid, something I can only face when I am like this, awake and sad, so very, very sad. I roll out of bed my bare feet hitting the fluffy carpet. I fall to my knees and reach under my bed. I want to stop but I can’t.
I reach and search for the box I am looking for, the small box that holds all my reminders. I know it is stupid and dangerous to my mental health but I just can’t help myself. I want to see the box. No, I need to see the box and its contents.
When my hand grazes it my heart skips an entire beat, not in fear but rather in anticipation, anticipation for the pain that will follow. I grab the box and pull it out from my hiding spot underneath my large bed.
The small cardboard box stares back at me, nonthreatening as ever, it is the contents that threaten me and my sanity. They threaten all the work I have been doing, how lately I have found myself feeling not so overwhelming sad, but something different, something akin to happiness, something wonderful.
I threaten all that now and I am no longer sure this is such a good idea. Only I don’t think I could stop even if I wanted to. I’m not sure I care anymore. I pull open the flaps, my hands graze the fabric of a pretty white lace dress, one burned into my memory, a shiver runs up and down my spine.
The pretty dress, a beautiful creation I fell in love with the moment I saw it shopping with Tamara, reminds me of how excited I was to go to Clark McCrery’s party that Friday night. I flip over the dress and ignore the ripped fabric and red stain near the crotch, it really is a nice dress, it is such a shame it had to get ruined I think numbly.
I put the dress on the ground next to me. I squint into the box in the darkness of my room, the only light coming from the moon high in the sky, and pull out a pair of simple pink panties. My heart skips a beat as I hold the flimsy fabric, no way they could have stopped what happened that night. I trace the hole at the top of the underwear where with force the fabric ripped from the elastic. They have a small love heart on the left bum cheek and they were my absolute favourite.
I stare at the stains, the blood red stains, and try to contain the multitude of emotions that overcome me. I feel shame, guilt and embarrassment. I feel a loss for the pretty clothes and my favourite underwear, but mostly I feel loss for myself.
It is strange, like the thought never truly occurred to me. As I stare at the semen and blood mixed together in a horrifying concoction on my underwear, everything hits me at once. I realise I didn’t just lose my old life, friends and virginity but I lost an important part of myself, the part that loved freely and trusted easily.
The old Ryan is gone… forever.
I am no longer sure who I am and the thought is completely sobering, I blink back tears. I hate these clothes I want suddenly to get rid of them, forever. I shove them back in the box however because they are the only proof I have of what really happened that night. The only proof I have that that night isn’t a figment of my imagination, the only proof I have that I was raped.
At the bottom of the box sits a dead rose and a small card, I hold it with shaking hands the words already burned into my memory.
Ryan,
Thanks for last night. I had a blast.
Love Seth,
I shove the card back in the box and shove the box under my bed and crawl to my window. In a desperate need for air and space I climb to the roof. I stand precariously on the edge, the roof tiles digging into my bare feet. I do not want to look down because I know I will be disappointed; I do not want to see how close the ground is.
I pretend for a moment that if I were to step off I will fly away. Fly far from this nightmare I call life. That I wouldn’t fall and hurt myself, I want to believe I would die. I don’t want to hurt anyone anymore but I don’t know how not to. I inch closer to the edge, my feet gripping the roof tiles. I will not die if I take one more step but the pain might be nice.
“Ryan,” A voice yells snapping me out of my thoughts, I look down and realise I am about to jump off the roof, seeing Eric staring at me with a look of pure terror on his face, like my death might mean something to him.
“I want to jump” I tell him, I have no idea why it is that I share this with him but I do, I desperately need to get these words off my chest,
“Don’t Ryan, don’t jump. You can beat this”
A tear slips from my pale face and I dangle my leg off the edge, I don’t want to just to jump but it is not because Eric is standing below me with hope on his pretty face but because I know the roof is not high enough to do real damage, to kill me.
“Don’t you get it?” I whisper almost in realisation, “It’s already won”
“Don’t say that Ryan,”
“Go to sleep Eric, everything will make sense in the morning,”
“I’m not leaving you Ryan,” He keeps saying my name almost in an effort to tether me to this world, to him.
“Everything will make sense in the morning,” I repeat my earlier sentiment,
“What are you talking about?” Eric asks, I hear a window open and freeze. I do not want to be caught up here, my parents will know exactly what I am doing and will realise that my ‘accident’ was not really an accident.
Eric climbs the trellis on the side of the house next to my window like he was done once before. I watch him with guarded eyes, “My mum used to say never make a big decision before bed because everything will make more sense in the morning everything will be clearer”
Eric sits down and I watch him for a moment before I follow suit. No one sees us and I am beyond grateful as I hear the opened window close. Eric grabs my hand and it sends a shock wave through my body, but I don’t really mind.
“I’ve been listening to the Ramones,” Eric says still holding my hand, he does not stroke it or anything he just simply holds it. It is reassuring and reminds me of when my father would hold my hand as a child to cross the street.
“What songs do you like?” I ask
“Blitzkrieg Bop and Sheena is a punk rocker”
“Why?”
“We listened to them together” I frown at Eric, it is such a stupid reason to like a song but I am too tired to question it, with Eric here my eyes flutter closed. “Go to bed Ryan,” Eric whispers,
I open my eyes partly as he helps me climb down to my bedroom window, he waits at my window holding on to the trellis with one hand and guiding me with the other, he leans in, “Good night Ryan,” For a stupid millisecond I think he is going to kiss me and for an even smaller second I think I am okay with it. I instantly back away startled and stare at him.
I need to stop spending so much time with Eric, he is confusing me.