It started off, not so well.
I wanted to get high, smoke some weed.
I wanted to get high because I,
I was feeling low.
I didn’t have enough money so I went, ‘5’ with some guy.
I knew of him, I didn’t think any harm.
His dark brown eyes looks so innocent.
So we smoked.
And it was a different high, and as I asked about what we were smoking,
He asked about other things.
Avoiding my question.
‘Have you ever kissed, high?’
I was young.
And into girls, but that was my little secret.
I said no,
So he asked me if I wanted to try,
And I continued asking about the blunt that had been already rolled when we met up.
He responded by saying
It’s something different, something special.
And he pulled me.
And forced me to kiss him.
And other things started happening.
He wouldn’t let go of me,
I was pushing him, saying stop.
‘I don’t want to do this.’ I said.
His eyes were slightly open, his kind dark brown eyes
Now red where should be white,
Looked ever so evil.
All I could think about was my mother,
How disappointed she would be.
He hit me,
He covered my mouth,
And I could barely breathe.
And when it was all over,
He just left me there.
I was bleeding,
And he just left me there.
So I stood there and I cried.
I couldn’t walk.
I was in so much pain.
I didn’t know what to do.
I didn’t know who to call.
I felt so worthless,
And so hurt,
And to this day,
I can never wear a pair of vibrant blue jeans.
I don’t like getting high,
I don’t like when boys look at me.
I don’t like when boys flirt with me.
I don’t like being alone with boys,
And to this day,
I still feel like it was all my fault.
I still feel like I wasn’t loud enough,
I still feel like I wasn’t direct enough.
I never told my parents.
I never told my brothers.
I never pressed charges.
And I thought about this frequently.
But nothing could ever make up for what he had done to me.
What he did to me is beyond comprehension.
He scarred my body,
He wounded my soul.
He broke me.
I have flashbacks.
I have nightmares.
I relive this moment as if it’s just happening.
If I was subjected to any type of justice that would be served,
I would see to it that he feels the emotional destruction that he left behind.
And that the flashbacks keep him up at night.
And that he feels every ounce of fear that he put in my heart.
— Survivor, age 16