What About The Truth?

Nobody believes you. Nobody believes you.

But I’m telling the truth! I argued with myself.

It doesn’t matter. Nobody believes you. End it.

End it. End it all. I COULD end this.

My mind was racing and my palms were sweating. The breeze from atop that school building lifted my dark curtain of hair and whipped it about my face.

What was the point of living another day if nobody believed me?

The priest wasn’t true to the image he’d built up. He was so respected and glorified. He gave money to charities and everybody loved him.

Except for me. I hated him. I would never forgive what he had done to me. I would never forgive anyone else for not believing me, either. Me. The ugly, nerdy, sixteen-year-old girl.

People were talking. They called me an attention seeker among many other things.

Everyone hates you.

The school bell rang and the other students flooded out of it.

I stepped back from my ledge and turned to come face to face with a boy.

I instantly recognized him as the new transfer student in my class.

“What are you doing up here?” he asked me, twiddling his brown locks.

“I-“ I couldn’t answer. I couldn’t come up with a good enough excuse.

“I heard what people are saying about you,” he started. “Don’t let them get to you. Live your life the way you want to. Life is short, after all.”

“I’m Sonny, by the way.” He continued.

“Sonny,” I repeated. “I’m Abigail. But you can call me Abby.”

“It’s nice to meet you, Abby.”

I nodded to him in acknowledgment.

“Well, I’ve better get going,” I told him. “See you Monday!”

I ran to the door, down the stairs, and out the school building, pondering my strange meeting with the new student.

My pondering didn’t last long, when I felt my back be struck by something hard.

I tripped and yelped in pain.

“Aw, look.” One of my classmates cooed, rocks in her hand. “Where are you running to?”

“To tell more lies?” her friend added.

“What’s next?” the first girl asked. “Are you going to tell us that one of the teachers is a serial killer or something. Did they kill me? What a story that would be.”

I quickly got up and ran before she could harm me further. I refused to get beat up by her yet again.

I ran as quickly as I could to the nearest subway station and down its steps.

I panted, exhausted from running, but I was relieved to realize that they had not followed me.

I couldn’t take that life anymore. I couldn’t.

My classmates, my friends, even my teachers and my parents, were all against me. I knew the priest was just enjoying this in his sick, twisted way. The thought of him gaining joy from my agony once again made me want to vomit.

The day he had raped me could never be effaced from my memories. I could never forget how innocent he had looked as he had asked me to help move some things around the church. I could never forget the way he threw me onto the floor or the disgusting lust in his eyes. I could never forget how much he hurt and degraded me. I could never forget how much I had begged to die.

“Nice to see you, Abigail,” I heard. I felt sick upon seeing him. Eric. The rapist priest.

He approached me, and I stumbled back, hitting the wall.

No one was in sight.

No. I thought.

Please don’t hurt me again…

“Nobody’s around, my dear Abby.” He purred. “I could easily rape you once again.”
He emphasized his point by running his ugly hands across the button of my jeans.

“And nobody would believe you,” he whispered harshly into my ear.

He leaned up, and smirked.

“Abigail?” I heard someone ask.

“Whoops. Company.” Eric said. “Tata, dearest Abby.”

And with that, he was gone.

“Abigail!”

I fell to the ground and wept as I heard footsteps come my way.

“Are you alright?”

Sonny.

I couldn’t answer him; I was crying too hard.

He wrapped me in his arms and made soothing hush noises.

“It’s alright, Abby.” He told me. “He’s gone.”

“Y-you b-believe me?” I asked.

“I believed you before, but now I’m a witness.” He answered.

It was a huge relief to know that at least somebody knew the truth.

I told Sonny the whole story and he listened to me. He actually listened.

We sat together in that abandoned station until dark.

“Say,” Sonny began. “Meet me here again tomorrow? Same time?”

“Sure,” I agreed, happy with my new friend.

He walked me home and we discovered that we lived only four houses down from each other.

He bade me goodnight and I walked upstairs to my room and fell into the most peaceful slumber I had had since the day I was raped.



The next day passed by a bit slowly. The designated meeting time came around and I trekked down the sidewalk toward the abandoned subway, shielding my eyes from the glare of the afternoon sun.

“Abigail,” my blood ran cold.

“Could you help me, please?” That voice.

I looked up to see that I was passing the church. Before I could see anything else, I felt Eric’s hand on my shoulder.

“Let’s go inside and get this work done,” he grinned.

“No!” I screamed.

“You have no choice,” he laughed, pulling me inside.

I pulled back hard and he pushed me onto the ground and began to drag me down the hall by my arm and my hair.

I struggled against him, but he was way too strong for me.

He tossed me onto the ground inside one of the Sunday-school classrooms and slammed the door. His shirt was already undone and he hovered over me.

“Dearest, Abigail,” he smirked. “Time to help me out again.”

I didn’t say anything. I thought I was going to puke. I wanted to die.

“Not saying anything, huh? Are you going to be a good girl for me? Has the heat gotten to you?” He stepped up to me and I froze as he caressed my neck and his disgusting breath ghosted my cheek.

“I love the attention,” he purred. “Everyone feels sorry for me. I’m just an innocent priest, after all.”

I wanted to slap the smirk right off his face.

He went to undo my pants.

“Stop!” I yelled, desperate to push him away.

“Don’t defy the Lord’s will, Abigail. Be a good girl.”

“Abby?!” My heart thundered in my ears. Someone else had entered the church.

Sonny.

“Abigail! Abigail!” he called.

“Sonny! Help!” I screamed, as Eric desperately tried to cover my mouth.

I heard someone running down the hallway.

No, not someone. There was more than one person. I could hear it.

Eric leapt off of me and desperately attempted to open the windows at the back of the room, foolishly forgetting the fact that they had been sealed shut to prevent cold air from coming in during winter.

The door opened and there stood Sonny along with several other people from the neighborhood and a police officer.

At that moment, I felt the weight of the world come off my shoulders and relief wash over me as tears fell down my cheeks.

The truth was out.

Sonny helped me up off the floor.

“Are you alright?” he asked, hugging me as the officer placed Eric in handcuffs and the crowd of people in the door way applauded his arrest.

“I am, now.” I answered.

Everyone seemed to swarm around me, profuse apologies cascading from their lips; even from those of the classmates that had bullied me so much.

“You are really brave,” the girl from yesterday had told me. “I admire you for staying so strong.”

Strength. I used to wonder why I kept being so strong. I wondered why I didn’t just give up when I was so certain that nobody believed me.
But since I laid my eyes on Sonny, I blessed myself for staying strong for so long.