It's Never Over

booksforthoughts BPC: Broken

“Maybe all the strings inside him broke,”

I have to read this in group on Tuesday and then burn it but honestly I’m pretty fucking proud of this and I’m not ready to let it go. I have used just his initials because I’ve heard if you accuse someone on the internet and they find it they can sue you.

“The ax forgets but the tree remembers. Rape casts a shadow the length of a lifetime. You never get over it, you just get through it.”

EM, I don’t remember a lot about you. I know your name obviously. I know what color and model truck you drive. That you’re an engineering major, went to Heritage high school, and listen to 70s rock like me. My mom learned from trying to find your address that you were a varsity wrestler, cross country runner, and member of a hiking club.

But there’s more that I don’t remember. Like what frat you were in, what you said to get me on that hike, or what song you sang along to as you drove me home after—your dirty fat fingers drumming on the steering wheel. I don’t remember you touching my chest but I had fingerprint bruises there that didn’t fade away for a week. I don’t recall the color of your belt even though I can still hear the snap of it. But what haunts me most still is that I don’t remember you face. Did I ever really look at you? It makes most men resemble you. I wish I knew the color of your eyes, but all I know is they were masked behind thick rimmed glasses and saw too much of me. It’s ironic, isn’t it? Not being able to clearly see what I fear most?

I don’t need to know why. I feel content in knowing that you are sick—it isn’t on me. I want to know how. How does someone get to a point where they get pleasure in hurting someone else? It sickens me that more you hurt me, biting, bruising, pushing, squeezing, the more aroused you got. As much as i hate you—and make no mistake i do hate you—I can’t imagine brutalizing you the way you did me. How do you live with yourself? How did you find me? Was it just some casual coincidence like I so want to believe? Because my gut tells me otherwise. Did you know that I smoked? That I had “Take a romantic night hike” on my bucket list board on Pinterest? That my dad used to tease me to go for an engineer once I got accepted to CSU? I bet you didn’t know that I saw my first shooting star that night as you did what you did. As I stared up at the sky thinking there really was no God, it quickly fell from the sky. Can you guess what I wished for? It wasn’t love, or wings, or to live. I wished to wake up because already I was trying to convince myself it wasn’t really happening. 

I know that you are expecting me to say that I’m not afraid of you anymore. It has been said that being scared of something gives that thing power over you. But I don’t believe that, that’s meant to make me ashamed of being impacted by your actions. The shame is on you. It is a vile thing to strike fear in others. And you did your best to keep me terrified, didn’t you? Like two days after, when you and your friends(all guys) stood behind me at my friend’s dance off at the Rec. Close enough for me to feel when you shifted your weight from one foot to the other and be able to hear when you said “nice ass.” Did you watch my ass as I sprinted back to my dorm? Which, by the way, wasn’t easy with a limp. Thanks for that. Or did you really hope to make an impression by parking at my dorm with your headlights on at night? That was you, wasn’t it? I haven’t stopped feeling watched since then. I’ve spent countless nights wide awake, and even more shaken by nightmares. 

But wait. There’s more that I give you credit for. On December 12th I couldn’t breathe. An ambulance ride and CAT scan later I learned I had a pulmonary embolism. Want to know what caused it? The birth control device I got 5 days after when you made me fear pregnancy. I knew I couldn’t protect myself from you. I’m still convinced that you’ll back. 

The truth is, an ax is just an ax. But a criminal—like you—never forgets his crimes. Do you feel victorious today, like a real man? Or are you afraid? Do you look over your shoulder everywhere you go? Aware that the danger—the monster—is within? I hope that what you did haunts you like the ghost you nearly turned me into. 

I know now that I can’t deaden it or act like it never happened. What you did was repulsive, degrading, and heinous. You forced me to make a decision about my body that brings judgement even from strangers. It should be you. Does anyone know why you left CSU in the middle of November? I’m dying to know what you tell people because I know it isn’t “I beat and raped a girl from my hometown and she reported it. I knew I was going to be expelled anyway so I dropped out.” 

You made me numb to everything. I have gone through long periods of time where I feel nothing at all. Your actions cut me to the utmost core. You plunged me into a depression deeper than the ocean. You have made sure that every action, every move, every risk, every mundane activity is met with a sense of panic. You helped to strain my relationship with my mom, made it so that conversation with my dad is sometimes awkward. You have make it nearly impossible for me to leave my house without a sense of doom. You made me question my faith, my relationships, my entire life, and every single decision I made that night. You have made me believe that there is little to no good left in the world.