By: No One
Trigger Warning: heavy mentions of sexual assault and victim blaming.
I still feel his hand on my thigh.
Why did you think that it was okay? Did I provoke it in someway? Did i give signals unintentionally? Am i just too friendly? Is it because i’m “easy”? Or perhaps i dressed provocatively?
Is it my fault? Is it my fault? Is it my fault?
I have never been more terrified in my life. Having to go to school and see your face everyday.
I did not give consent to this. I did not allow this. I didn’t even say it was okay. I said nothing.
I kept my mouth shut because I heard that was what’s best. I was told it would define you forever and I couldn’t have that on my record. I couldn’t tell anyone not my mom or my dad, not my sister or a teacher not even a friend like they tell you to because somehow you end up at fault. As a woman it’s hard to be trusted by others. We’re perceived as snakes and devils when in reality we’re merely the victims marked out by others as the target to their anger and sexual oppression and horniness.
We were friends. I trusted you. I never even laid a hand on you. Why did you do this? Why would you do this? I have a boyfriend does that not change the matter of things? Does he not matter to you? But will he leave me now? Will this matter to him? because I’m impure now? Because I’ve been touched by someone other than him? Will he hate me for this? I never asked for any of this. How can I tell him this though. He will never forgive me for this.
This is not the end of my purity. It is not the end of anything. Only the beginning of the wreckoning and salvation of my rights. Holding this inside of me. Lounging around the burden of your unwanted touch. The weight is too heavy for me and me alone. But who can I tell? Who will believe that it’s not my fault? No one. How can I tell people anyway. Your future is at risk. You are my friend, right? Maybe I’m overreacting like I always do. Maybe I’m being too dramatic. Maybe I just need to take a few steps back. Maybe I did provoke this in some way. Maybe I wanted it. But, I never asked for it.
Underneath the table is where it happened. There were people with us. We were not alone. I was talking about something that made me feel upset. Something that triggered me. You were my friend. You were there to help me, allegedly, that is what you told me. But, I guess you were just horny, and that is when I felt your hand on my knee. It was slowly but surely making its way up to my thighs. Maybe you were just trying to comfort me. But I didn’t give you permission. My boyfriend doesn’t even touch me, so what makes it okay for you?
Do I tell my mom? Or will I be blamed? Doesn’t he have a little sister? would he like it if it’d been her? Would it have been the same? Is he in love with me? But, that’s not an excuse. Am I out of my mind? Or am I just batshit crazy? Am I thinking too much of this? Or is this real? Doesn’t everyone like him? So how could he sexually assault me? Am I the first? I sure do hope I’m the last.
I now truly understand what it means to want the earth to split in half and swallow you whole. A girl can dream. I don’t know why I’m freaking out so much about this. It’s not like it’s the first time. But, everyday I pray that it would be the last.
Forgive and forget, they say.
Over my dead body.