Could There Be Something? in Chapter 8 : Time to Heal

So…

I need to write this without being deep and dramatic. I need to get this down pragmatically. I’m not going to go into any graphic, gory details but I need to be blunt.

When you’re raped, people think it’s just the actual physical attack you need to get over, the fear that it holds over you, the memories that haunt you and all the other bullshit that it brings that fucks with your mental health. Does anyone ever stop to really reflect on what you’ve lost? What’s been stolen from you when you’re raped? I didn’t, I haven’t.

I think the main thing he stole from me was comfort. He stole the little security I had. I don’t feel safe anymore. Not anywhere. I don’t sleep in anyone’s bed anymore, and no-one sleeps in mine. I come home after every night out. When my day is done, I head home, lock the doors, and climb in to bed, because even though subconciously it’s not “safe”, it’s the safest place I can be because I’m away from everyone else. I’m isolated. If there’s no-one around, then there’s no-one to hurt me. I used to be quite social once upon a time. I used to like going out, being around people. I used to be a party girl. I knew that I shouldn’t take the risks I was taking at the time, just in case, you know, in case I got raped but when it happened to me, it wasn’t in a dark alley, or rogue minicab. It was in my own bed; and if someone that close to me can hurt me that way in our own home, then what’s to stop a stranger doing it elsewhere? What’s to stop anyone randomly hurting me in anyway they choose, just because? So now I stow myself away, because it’s safer.

He stole the world away from me, and I have no idea of how to reclaim it.

Last updated January 27, 2018