Seven years later and here I am still standing with my feet placed firmly on the ground. You thought you had the strength to break me when you held the knife to my throat. How are you doing these days? I’m okay, better than I was when you stole my innocence right out from underneath me. The corners of my mind you invaded have been built back up with reinforced ones and a greater understanding of what it meant to feel worthless. I know I’m not defined by what lays between my thighs but the moment you ripped out my self-esteem, I realized the only defining thing I had was taken away from me. I don’t walk the same way I did in the past. My bones have bruises that will never fade. The imprints of your fingertips will always burn and crack my sensitive soul.
People stare at me now, look at me differently, treat me differently, I think they can taste the shame in my shadow. Hugs feel like a huge tornado, confusing and destructive. I don’t have the strength to tell my friends I don’t want to be touched, human interaction is crucial to them, yet a monster to me. Do you know how hard it is to have the words to explain to people what you did to me? I can’t. My memory has amnesia. I have blocked you out of my mind. The times I do remember, I feel my ribs breaking, the demon between my thighs starts to ache. You made me hate myself. How could I let you have that power over me? I feel as if my self worth has been determined by whether or not I have been captured by the mere thought of you.
There’s an unsettling rhythm within myself. It doesn’t beat right. I want to feel normal, I don’t want to fear every hand that touches my body. I spend most days with a daunting silence in my lungs and I pray they’ll find you. To be perfectly honest with you, I don’t know where this letter is going, my broken soul told me to recite this to you so I am and maybe one day you’ll get caught and get what you deserve. Until then, I will write about the cage you rattled and the confidence you shattered. I will write about the silenced vocal cords and the claw marks on my thighs you left from gripping too hard. You might have ruined my body but you will never ruin me.