The Willful Burning

What’s the biggest change you’ve seen in the past year?

Urban Dictionary says rape is forcing yourself on a woman without yelling, “Surprise!” first. That it’s the struggle snuggle, the reason abortion exists, the name you shout when you’re having sex.

But his hands are heavy at my wrists, and I tell myself it’s nothing like I remember. If I think about it long enough, I can still feel his fist beating into my shoulder, my body pressed into the mattress, his voice in my ear.

They say rape is when a bitch says no at the last minute. That it’s a “Really Awesome Party Experience”. That it’s when you ridiculously outscore your opponent in fantasy football.

He says, “Oh, my God, you’re so wet.” 

He says, “I want you to fight.” 

He says, “Next time, I’ll bring a hammer.” 

He never stops staring at me.

It took seven years before I could call it rape because it wasn’t how I was told rape happens. It wasn’t in a dark alley, it wasn’t some stranger pushing me against a wall. It was a cheap hotel room outside of Chicago. It was a college bedroom in Minnesota. It was someone familiar. It took seven years because everywhere they teach you teach you that silence is a yes. Not that I hadn’t said no, but when those words fade into the quietness of night, they stop existing. Like they were never spoken.

I tell myself the years between then and now have left too much time for thinking, that I’m afraid of things that didn’t happen, that I should try to forget.

The truth is I didn’t know any better. The truth is I thought I loved him. The truth is there are parts of me that still believe it’s my fault.

They say, “It’s sex you didn’t know you wanted.” They say, “It’s what she had coming.” They say, “You might as well shout, ‘Fire!’ because nobody will fucking believe you.”

And sometimes, I lie awake at night and think about those moments: hands pinned above my head, tears streaming down my face, eyed closed, silently begging for it all to be over. The truth is I still tell myself that what he did was okay.