Aftermath

Warning- This post contains sensitive content

Aftermath

My head pounded and my eyes were blurry with tears. I could barely see and every attempt to swallow was rewarded in pain.  I struggled to think about why this happened to me. What had I done wrong? I was a good girl. I'm a good girl. Tears commingled with sweat and blood trailed down from my runny nose and into my mouth. My nose felt too big. It was hard to breathe.

Every step I took hurt.  A pain came from deep inside me and ran through my whole body. My left side hurt the most. Moments earlier, my screams of pain and sheer terror went unanswered. I thought I was going to die. It felt like I was being ripped in half. My throat and chest hurt now that I could swallow gulps of fresh air. The pressure of the pillow off my face and his weight off my young body, but the stench of alcohol seemed to be everywhere on me. I made it to the front door and slowly turned the nob. 'Please don't make a sound' I silently prayed to the door, afraid he would catch me leaving.

My bare feet trudged across the yard. The grass was kinda prickly beneath my feet. My toes were starting to be covered  in something wet and sticky. My favorite nightgown was wet and cold against my legs. I dared not look down to see the slimy mess that was coming from me, slowly creeping down my legs. Sharp pebbles from the street stabbed at the tenderness of my young flesh as I made my way across the street to my neighbor's house. 

"Just focus on getting to the front door." I chanted over and over in my mind, teeth chattering,  as I crossed the 57 steps it took to get there. Funny I would be counting my steps. She would help me, she would know what to do. Where was my mom? Why didn't she stop him.

I made it to the neighbor's house. Finally. I look up and I cannot speak, I just cry. She looks down at me smiling and her face goes immediately from curiosity to shock to anger. I must look really ugly. Bloody footsteps mar her welcome doormat. Her screams for her husband echoed through the quiet early morning air of our community "call the police!"
- © SL Thomson
1-800-4-A-CHILD

This was written after watching news of missing children, after a brief talk with an author who wrote about her experience and for some reason it conjured up a story I remembered hearing on the news a while back about a young girl's tragic experience when her mother went off for a jog. I remember crying while I watched the newscast. I cried for the innocence stolen, greedily ripped away without remorse or a second thought. I cried for the fear and utter feeling of failure the mother must surely be feeling and that she would have to listen to people judge her for daring to have a life. I even cried for the child's absent biological father who was barely mentioned. I cried for the lives torn asunder long after people forget and the next story comes along. 

I spoke to my husband about how bad this epidemic is and it is not until we are adults that women sometimes find the courage to even talk about such travesties. I could not believe how many women had gone through some sort of physical sexual violation just among the women I know. Some as children, some in their teens , some as adults. It's staggering. Believe me it is not a club one wants to belong to. Many never told anyone. Many never tell anyone. Suffering alone. As did I. I was almost 40 when I found the strength to talk about it..

This short is not my experience but I admit I was able to write from the same pain. I actually wrote it a few weeks ago, stopped and considered just deleting it. The feeling of sickness in the pit of my stomach remained for days after I wrote it. Having to open that box in the back of the mental closet shelf once again. But with courage anew I am going to post it.

If you, or someone you know needs help. Find your voice:
The author's book I am recommending stated that many blogs would not feature her book due to the content. I believe books are where you can release pain, wonder, knowledge, sex, darkness, horror and beauty. They are also a place to relinquish our truths.

If this post inspired, touches or moves you in any way please share it.

So in the spirit of this being a book blog the book suggestion is:

My Prison Without Bars: The Journey of a Damaged Woman to Someplace Normal 
By Taylor Evan Fulks