I still don’t know what happened that night. I still hug my knees in a weak attempt to fall asleep. I let the comfort of my own body lull me to rest, becuase after all that is the only body I can trust anymore.
What people don’t realise, is that Hollywood does not properly depict what it is like. It is not mournfully beautiful. It is not a pretty, skinny, perfect girl with sweet beads of tears gently rolling down her cheeks.
It is a drunk man or woman, unsure of what part of the city they are in. It is not some stranger stalking you in the street. It is someone you know. Someone you thought you could trust. It is laying there unable to throw punches or kicks, because you are in complete disbelief of what is happening.
You never think it will be you until it is.
Just one kiss. You keep telling youself, but soon one becomes two, and two becomes five, and five becomes ten, and ten becomes so much more than a kiss. Suddenly you find yourself uncontrol of the situation. You make excuses, you try to leave but when he grabs your arm to pull you back you don’t protest becuase he did buy you that drink, and he did give you a ride home after all.
You try again to leave. You try to say goodnight. All you want is the warm familiarity of your soft bed, but instead you are woken to reality with a thud as you hit the groud.
Before you know it, you are stripped of all your dignity. Everything you never thought would happen to you again, is. You close your eyes. You try to go to a happy place, but a wall is in you path, becuase the pain is just too real to keep you from daydreaming. You cannot daydream in a nightmare. Tears fill your eyes. Tears like nothing you have ever cried before.
They always taught you how to handle yourself in these situations, but what they don’t teach you is how to handle others.
Because kicking and screaming is hard to do when you have lost your voice.