• How DARE You

    by  • December 30, 2010 • Abuse, Anger, Betrayal, Grief, Heartbreak, Regret, Resentment • 3 Comments

    I don’t know why I never really made you pay for what you did. You completely broke me and the thing is… you don’t even care or are so self absorbed that you don’t even know that you did it.

    I was sixteen years old. I was vulnerable, a child, and you… broke me like a toy, like a doll. Ripped me right in half and didn’t even notice. I wanted to eat my little microwave pizza and you… IT was slow at first. Your botched attempt to woo me I guess… But you kept pushing and pushing… I was whimpering, I didn’t want to do it I didn’t want this to happen…. but you twisted my mind, your breath scalded my flesh…. I remember it was cold and then you were so hot… burnt me to a crisp and threw me away like something dirty and spoiled.

    I was pure once, before you got your paws on me, inside me, you ripped me apart. I nearly killed myself… I could have died but you got most of what you wanted. I eventually found my voice. Said no. But it was too late. The screams I should have yelled five years ago are still boiling in my stomach like acid. Still waiting to force themselves up, scalding my throat, still wanted to blast apart my lips and burn you to the ground. I’m a volcano and I can only erupt with the word no and still I’m too scared.

    I let this happen. How could I let you do that to me? I was sixteen. I knew that maybe if I screamed then you would stop. You forced your ravenous soul inside me and told me I liked it, that this was what *I* wanted. Your filthy hands spreading your filthy soul in mine. Forceful kisses burn me and cap my mouth to keep me from crying. You are ten years my senior but as good as the dead. Your soul can’t ever have been pure. You left your mark on me, fingers sliding in my panties, mouth searching, licking, teeth brushing against my nipples.

    Was it worth it? Steal a girl’s innocence and throw her away like a dirty rag. I’m dirty from your hands, from your words and you presume to judge me a whore? And still I would not tell you. Acted as if you were a friend. Went to your wedding. Met your wife. Held your child during the ceremony.

    She knew though, your wife, the woman who presumed to call me a whore two years later. When I dated your friend I knew that he and she used to be something. But I thought maybe he wasn’t like you and he wasn’t but he was a casualty of war when your wife called me a whore when you called me a whore when the world called me a whore for liking older men because my mind was so bent and broken, my eyes no longer clear, they were hidden by the grime and crap you spread on my soul.

    Clipped my wings, caged birds may sing but to me this body is a jail. Cut off my curls, slice into my breasts, slit my wrists, how could I let you do this to me? It’s my fault right. I never said the word no and that….that is your saving grace isn’t it? Because I did not push you away because I was too weak, too young, too scared…. too dead on the inside to do what could have saved me. I’ve spared you lifetimes of pain because I never shared it all.

    I’ve saved you because what am I supposed to do, it’d just make me a killer too, and if not me someone acting on my behalf. I may still be walking around but you killed me that night. All I wanted was my little microwaved pizza. You molested me you fucking bastard. You broke the law and I let you walk free. What the hell does that make me then? I can’t go back now and say, hey, when I was sixteen this guy took advantage of me can you please arrest him. I have no case and that is your saving grace.

    You ripped me apart like I was a rag doll tossed me aside when I finally said enough and you killed my soul. I keep saying I’m fine but I can’t help but feel your hellfire breath on my breasts, the feel as your hand slid into my panties and pulled the fucking trigger on me. I’m dead. You still hold it over my head like some gruesome prize…You don’t know what you did, do you?

    You think I’m a whore for not fucking you, well fuck you, and fuck your wife and fuck your saving grace… I may not have said no… I may not have screamed, but I was SIXTEEN. There are some basic human laws you should not violate. I was a child, what justification can you give to doing what you did?

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    3 Responses to How DARE You

    1. Chloe
      January 2, 2011 at 3:14 am

      I am so sorry.

      For all the pain this creep has put you through, the way you express it was sad yet beautiful. I hope you find a way to heal and find something better for yourself. I wish you the best of luck.




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    2. Dom
      January 2, 2011 at 9:03 pm

      It’s been years both since the incident and since writing the letter. It took a lot to finally tell people and finally come to terms with it myself, but things are better now. This is just an old angry letter.




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    3. Anne
      April 4, 2011 at 8:50 pm

      You’re a hugely brave person for going through this and even having the courage to write this letter in the first pace. I hope you can confront the person one day and show them what you’ve become despite the poison of their presence in your life.




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