By an Anonymous Contributor
Did you know? How much I liked you? I mean, you must have. How could you have missed the childish grin on my face when you told the others that we were going to stay alone. I was so excited, I had no idea what you had planned. I’m still embarrassed to admit that I actually thought you liked me too. You kept calling me your ‘baby’, funny how you referred to me as a child when you were about to steal my youth away from me.
Did you know? I had never drunk like that before. I guess that didn’t matter to you though, for you kept pouring it down my throat and laughing at my innocence. One should have been enough, two at a push. But you forced them on me as if I’d been in the Sahara Desert for weeks and I was in desperate need for liquid. You waited until I was unable to hold myself steady, and then like some twisted hero you carried me in your arms while the world around me slowly began to fall apart.
Did you know? That I was barely 16, I had never been touched before. The furthest I’d gone was a clumsy kiss with an inexperienced boy and I was terrified. But you were older, you knew exactly what to do, you made that very clear. You lay me down, barely conscious, and removed my clothing with such ease I didn’t even realise it had happened. But then I felt the pain, fuck it hurt. And then I don’t remember anything apart from darkness. It was so dark.
Did you know? How scared I was, waking up and you weren’t there. Hearing some girl that I’d only just met crying at the sight of me. Feeling so heavy as if my head was buried under layers of stone. Unable to lift myself but conscious that I was surrounded in blood and vomit. Vaguely aware it was mine.
Did you know? I had to lie to my own parents. I could not face telling them what had happened, fear of how they would react, how my dad would come and find you. Funny how I protected you, even after you stole everything from me. A large part of me was so deeply ashamed of what I had done – as if it were my fault – that I did not tell anyone the depth in which you hurt me for years.
Did you know? How badly I scarred? For months after it happened I would sit on the toilet having to bite my hand just to stop the scream from escaping my lungs. It felt like a fire was blazing between my legs every single time.
Did you know? The shame I felt, sitting in a nurse’s room with my legs separated whilst strangers were deep inside me. Closing my eyes, trying desperately to hold back the tears, whilst they examined me in such detail I was sure they had memorized my insides.
Do you know? I still can’t fully appreciate the touch of another man. It is hard for me to tell my body that it’s okay, that I am allowed to enjoy the feeling, it still feels wrong. It’s been 8 years.
I wonder if you’ll ever know.