Trigger Warning: rape, implied suicide
EVERYTHING is dark. Someone calls my name. It asks me if I am okay.
I jolt awake. I remember foggy memories of intrusive mouths and unwelcome hands touching me.
Years have passed, but my nightmares remain all the same. I am almost an adult but I still feel like the defenseless child trapped from back then.
Getting off my bed, I walked towards my living room and opened the television. Their variety show was on— even when I am awake, they still haunt me.
I stare blankly at their faces and found myself reminiscing the very night my life went in shambles.
My blood curdles in recalling the smug faces that casually brushed off what they did to me. Their public apology did nothing, and it will never be enough.
They knew that I was going to be kept silent in the end, and they were right.
I still remember the gun on the table in that room he locked me in. If I knew that I would still be suffering up to this day, I would have been braver.
But even then, no one believed me. To them, I am just someone trying to boost my acting career through scandal. To them, they are rich, powerful men who hold a lot of fame and influence.
But I know the truth, and it is something I have to convince myself of everyday. It is not my fault. It is not my clothes’ fault. It is theirs and theirs alone. F ISABELL ANDREA M. PINE