I woke up in the dark,
my body glued to the bed.
“Why do I feel so heavy?
Why is the music so loud?
Where is everyone?
I need help, I cant move…
my voice, what happened to my voice?”
The door opens
in you come,
“thank God,” I thought,
“he can help me…”
he closes the door behind him,
and turns the lock.
***
The blood from my nose, dripping down to my mouth,
I could taste it.
This was real
and not just a vivid nightmare,
those would come later
I watched you,
your face shining in the light of the streetlamp from the window,
I watched your face as you were screaming in mine,
your eyebrows pushed together in anger,
sweat sliding down your neck as you kept slamming in and out of me,
in and out, in and out
I could say no prayer, no urge to yell for help,
all I could think about was you.
I wanted to cry…
for you.
Because for someone to have so much rage, enough to commit this,
something had to have gone wrong before me.
Something in your past contributed to what was happening to me in that very moment,
and I’ll never know what it was.
On the nights following that Friday,
I cried myself
sometimes to sleep but mostly just cried;
not because I had just had my virginity violently stolen from me,
not because of the hurtful words you whispered in my ear,
not because of the bruises I had to hide from the people around me,
not because of the horrific event I had just experienced but went on pretending like it didn’t happen,
none of that.
I cried for you,
your face full of anger replaying over and over again,
your eyes glassy,
your hands as cold as your heart.
I cried because I had two parents who loved me unconditionally sleeping a few rooms down,
a sister braver than I’ll ever be on the other side of my wall,
and friends and family who supported me, made me feel loved,
made me feel worthy.
I cried because even though I knew almost nothing about you,
I knew that you lacked those things.
I wanted so badly to hate you,
but I could not.
I didn’t pray for much those days, or even that year or the following year.
I didn’t pray for a night without nightmares so that I could finally sleep through the night just once,
I didn’t pray that I’d get my appetite back,
I didn’t pray for the mental images to be erased,
I didn’t pray that I’d stop running to a bottle to temporarily take away the pain,
and I didn’t pray for healing.
But I hoped for all those things for you.
Though I’ll never get the opportunity to,
I’d love to understand why you did it.
You changed my life dramatically.
I’d love to say that I moved on and that that night had no effect on me,
but it did.
It broke me,
shattered me
sent me on a chase for life
for love
for worth
for relief
and for a savior.
Now four years later,
I’m here,
still picking up the pieces of the girl I tried to throw away when life got too heavy and I went numb.
But these pieces are coming together.
Yes I am absolutely broken
and yes
I am absolutely beautiful.
Kimberly Lynn
shvrds 