The death of Innocence
You raped me that day. You had oral sex with me. Other things I am too afraid to say. Things I didn’t know what they were at that precious age. I didn’t think there was anything worse then the pain of being raped but there was. It was the terror of thinking I was going to die that day. Die there on that bed with you smiling in my face.
How you have lived with yourself all these years is beyond me. I would really like to know? How does a human being put a child through such a horrific event and get out of bed the next day as if it never happened?
Even through forgiveness it doesn’t erase what you did that day and every year I am reminded. Taken back to the room where I thought I was going to die and apart of me did. My innocence died.
Your actions shaped the person I became. Once locked behind that door where you would have liked to have kept me. A place I wanted to stay because I knew the ugly horror that would await me on the other side because of your actions. I had to wait until I was strong enough to face the truth of what I left behind of a six year old raped, abused, terrified, and powerless. It was your reflection that eventually drove me to come back. Each time I looked in the mirror you appeared just as you had done in a bathroom when I was eight years old up against a wall placing your face in a very wrong place. I feared your eyes more then your strength. It was those eyes that had silenced me and screamed out at me as the whites of them consumed me in fear. You threatened to tie me to the bed if I screamed. The pain was too great and I screamed as loud as my lungs would allow me. I thought I was taking my last breath of air when you placed your hand over my mouth to silence my screams. I could not stop crying and you looked into the eyes of a little girl and told her crying is for babies as you continued to rape her. You promised to be gentle if I did not scream. How does a six year old possibly not scream to that kind of pain? The worst pain I can describe today in my nearly 24 years of life. Pain I held in until I was 22.
I have turned that pain into a purpose. A purpose to expose the evil that lives in you. The evil you will not discuss with anyone. Instead remaining silent as you fight your own demons inside of you. The same voice you silenced speaks of your actions. It was your reflection that came back to haunt me when I was 19 that caused me to run from myself. Starving myself of what I did not want to share with anyone because I knew the trauma that would follow. Similar trauma that haunted me at the hands of a family member. I thought I was going to become your victim never live to see another day. I thought you were going to kill me at 6. I survived and escaped but that did not come with the consequences of a lifetime of memories I can never erase. Memories that flooded my head for the first year I went back and rescued myself. Memories I learned to handle when they arise.
I want you out of my dreams. It has been months since your face appeared but last night you made a visit. It began just like it did when I was a child with your shadow appearing on the walls and soon those glowing white eyes looking into mine. Suddenly you are on top of me and once again I am fighting for air. I wake to realize it was just a nightmare. Emotions consume me as I lay in darkness and suddenly tears flow from my eyes. Tears you once told me were only for babies, tears that took me fifteen years to let out. Tears I am not afraid to show. Tears for the pain I endured as I comfort myself in darkness.
