The Reasons Why I Weep

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Status: Finished  |  Genre: True Confessions  |  House: Booksie Classic
recount of a night too many of us encounter.

Submitted: April 16, 2017

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Submitted: April 16, 2017



The Reasons Why I Weep

I am cold, shaking, and scared.

That night, you broke ME. Before I thought it could never happen to me, because I was strong. Before I thought I could trust in others to take care of me. Before, I was a child. Now I know that I am weak. Now I know I cannot trust. Now I am educated in the vileness of men. I no longer wish to walk this Earth with you and your kind.

You picked me up in your arms because I could not walk. You lay on me because I could not push you off. I am immobile. I say NO, I say STOP; but you do not. You continue to undress me as you still lay over me. I feel your hands grabbing me intimately. I feel your slobbering mouth move over my skin. It is becoming too much to comprehend. You start to create physical signs of your presence, the hickeys on my chest, the bruises on my arms and back. These physical signs will soon heal, but my soul is scarred for life. Now, I am naked and afraid. I am helpless and vulnerable with only you left to save me; but you are no hero. In the moments right before, I struggle my hardest and yet you do not halt. The first thrust is slow and I yelp in pain. But once it has started there is no going back. You continue and I am numb. I feel EVERYTHING you do, but I am limp. I am broken before it is over. It goes on and on and I think it will never stop. I pray to God to kill me, but it only gets worse from here. After you are satisfied, you carry me out and leave me to rot. I realize I am laying on a lawn as I look up at the night sky. I am out in the open for the world to shame me. I can’t remember how long I lay there, but I manage to move before sunrise.

I only sleep that night from the poison swirling in my mind. When I awaken, I burst into tears. I think that it is all my fault. I think that I am a dirty whore. I want to shower you away but it pains me to undress, and leave myself vulnerable once again. I cannot get the water to scald me enough, I cannot scrub hard enough, I cannot manage to touch where you defiled me the most. Days pass and I manage to continue with life, but it is hard. Months go by and I think about it less and less, but I am more cautious now. Until one day I hear a seminar. “If you say no, it is RAPE. If you are too drunk to say no, it is RAPE. IF YOU DO NOT GIVE CONSENT IT IS RAPE.” The horrible memory fills my mind. It was not my fault, it was rape. I said NO, and you undressed me. I said NO, and you caressed me. I said NO, and you raped me.

Nobody knew about the events which occurred this night. Friends, family, and the police had no idea. I used to think it was my fault, so I told no one about my mistake. Once I realized you were the monster, I still couldn’t tell anyone. I was too weak to stop a man from forcing himself into me. I used to think that I was strong but now I know no amount of strength can save me. I used to think I was safe but now I am paranoid of the constant danger surrounding me. I used to believe there was good in people, but now I know what pigs you are. You stole my innocence. You stole my faith. You broke my soul. You broke my spirit. How could a God allow this to happen to his people? How could a man do this to a helpless person? Would I ever have been able to stop you?

I thought about taking this information to the police, but it would have been too late. Almost 6 months had passed and the evidence had been washed away. It would have been my word against yours and there was no guarantee to put you away. If it had been made a public spectacle, I would have been questioned. Asked to relive every detail of that night over and over again as I recount the tale to numerous detectives and law enforcement officials. There would be those who called me a hero. Telling my tale for all to hear and let others know that they are not alone. But I would have also been called a liar. They would say, “She was asking for it. She liked it. She deserved it. She is a slut. She is a liar”. They would have called me a whore. They would have called me a slut. You would have become the VICTIM even though I was the one who had been raped. In the end, it would have been my word against yours. I couldn’t relive it. Although it has always haunted me that you are not behind bars. What if you had done this to another person? Was I the first? Am I the last?

These are the reasons why I weep. You are the reason I have lost countless nights of sleep. You are the reason I pray for death. You are the reason I fearfully shake out of control. You are the reason I am paranoid to walk the streets. You are the reason I cannot trust. You are the reason there are few good men. Society is the reason you got away. Society is the reason this still exists. Society is the reason I didn’t turn you in.

I am not a slut. I am not a liar. But I do hope to die sometimes. I do wish I could forget the past. I was 17, and I was a child. Now I am 21 and I still weep. 

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