Four white walls enclose a small bedroom. The bed in the middle has two people on it. A large blue sheet below them covers the pink handmade quilted blanket and white pillows underneath. I watch from the bottom end corner with closed windows to my side. My heart drops into my stomach below. My mind races against the time I’ve felt this before. My voice trapped inside the bars of the prison in my brain, begging to be set free. The other person on the bed is also me.


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Flashes of memories flood back into my brain and creep into my body. A broken heart is once again tortured by a man who destroyed a promise he made before that night even began. The physical wounds don’t exist. The physiological wounds are too hard to grasp. He told me that it wasn’t about sex. He was right. It was about rape.

I can’t make sense of this night yet. It creeps into my every thought, every moment and motion. I wake up in tears from the nightmares that steep into my dreams. I shower away the filth that is still on me from that night. I often sleep too little or too much, rarely is it a good, healthy amount. I walk daily, quickly and often in a desperate attempt to escape that night. I try to disappear. I wish the world to not see what is inside me. I laugh and desperately seek to help others, knowing I can’t yet do the same for me. When I try to speak, my voice is quiet and shaky. I fear the thoughts of shame and guilt will be reiterated back to me as truth. So I stay silent with these secrets that enclose me like the white prison walls from that night. Somehow, a night filled with his needs, wants and desires is now an endless battle for mine.

The more I try to seek justice, the more I retreat into myself, silent and afraid. Through all the actions I took that night, I never knew it built a bridge towards a crime against my body. It’s difficult to see the blame on him, when I laid the framework for that bridge. No one asks to be raped. No one deserves it. But it’s difficult to seek justice, help, and comfort from friends when society will put the blame on me. The reality of justice is a tall tale that doesn’t usually end in justice at all. So I have to seek the justice within me. I have to seek help for myself and come to know and believe that it wasn’t my fault. This proves to be the hardest and most painful part of it all. I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to be trapped in that room forever. One day, I will feel peace where these wounds are.

Floods: A Story Of Rape

Four white walls enclose a small bedroom. The bed in the middle has two people on it. A large blue sheet below them covers the pink handmade quilted blanket and white pillows underneath. I watch from the bottom end corner with closed windows to my side. My heart drops into my stomach below. My mind races against the time I’ve felt this before. My voice trapped inside the bars of the prison in my brain, begging to be set free. The other person on the bed is also me.


Show Full Text

Flashes of memories flood back into my brain and creep into my body. A broken heart is once again tortured by a man who destroyed a promise he made before that night even began. The physical wounds don’t exist. The physiological wounds are too hard to grasp. He told me that it wasn’t about sex. He was right. It was about rape.

I can’t make sense of this night yet. It creeps into my every thought, every moment and motion. I wake up in tears from the nightmares that steep into my dreams. I shower away the filth that is still on me from that night. I often sleep too little or too much, rarely is it a good, healthy amount. I walk daily, quickly and often in a desperate attempt to escape that night. I try to disappear. I wish the world to not see what is inside me. I laugh and desperately seek to help others, knowing I can’t yet do the same for me. When I try to speak, my voice is quiet and shaky. I fear the thoughts of shame and guilt will be reiterated back to me as truth. So I stay silent with these secrets that enclose me like the white prison walls from that night. Somehow, a night filled with his needs, wants and desires is now an endless battle for mine.

The more I try to seek justice, the more I retreat into myself, silent and afraid. Through all the actions I took that night, I never knew it built a bridge towards a crime against my body. It’s difficult to see the blame on him, when I laid the framework for that bridge. No one asks to be raped. No one deserves it. But it’s difficult to seek justice, help, and comfort from friends when society will put the blame on me. The reality of justice is a tall tale that doesn’t usually end in justice at all. So I have to seek the justice within me. I have to seek help for myself and come to know and believe that it wasn’t my fault. This proves to be the hardest and most painful part of it all. I can’t do this alone. I don’t want to be trapped in that room forever. One day, I will feel peace where these wounds are.