To the person who took my innocence,
Are you happy with yourself? Did raping me give you the power you were looking for? Do you feel like a man now? 30% of women were between the ages of 11 and 17 at the time of their first completed rape. I was one of those 30%: I was only 12 years-old! I wasn’t even a teenager yet. Because of you, I lost my childhood. I was home-bound for weeks. Weeks turned to months. Months turned into years. You know, I can hardly remember those years. I lost myself completely, and it was all because of you. You made me suffer for years.
It took me a long time to figure out what I did wrong. I kept asking myself if I deserved it. I blamed myself. I hated myself. “Worthless.” “Stupid.” “Porque no puedes ser una niña normal?” Countless times of suicidal thoughts and attempts. Just because I don’t have physical scars doesn’t mean I don’t have them. Only I can see what the filth surrounding me. No matter how much I try to wash it off me, you’re still there. Dreams of you haunt me at night. My anxiety is getting too high for me to handle. It was all because of you.
I can still remember that day. The day I met you. I can see what I didn’t that day: the hunger in your eyes, licking your lips as if I was a piece of Carne Asada. You had the same look the night you raped me. It replays in my head like a broken record. It’s like a bullet stuck in my brain, and no one can get it out no matter how much they tried.
“It gets easier the more you talk about it.” “You’ll get over it. It just takes time.” “One day, it’ll be as little as a nightmare: you’ll forget about it.” Last Thanksgiving marked five years. Five years. 1,825 days. There’s not a day where something reminds me of you. And believe you me, not in the good way. Nothing about you is good. If you were so damn good, why am I in such pain? Pain that you caused. How could you do this? To me? To anyone? Can’t you see the damage you caused? You took away my worth. My time. My voice. Myself. Can you live with yourself after all of this?
Even though I try to be the strong and cheerful person that everyone sees me as, I hope you get what you deserve for doing such a thing to an innocent girl. Monsters are nothing compared to you. In my eyes, you are my biggest fear. They say “forgive those who did you wrong.” In my case, I can never forgive you for what you did. My story will continue to live on because, believe it or not, I plan to tell my story to hopefully get people like you to not even think about doing such actions to anyone! To end this letter, I would like say that “what [you] did to me doesn’t expire. It stays with me, it’s part of my identity, it has forever changed the way I carry myself, the way I live the rest of my life,” (Emily Joe, Stanford Rape Victim).
The Girl With The Invisible Scars
(Lluvia, age 18)