(Improved) Controlling Fear

Trigger Warning: Sexual Assault Content and Post Traumatic Stress Disorder

That night was the night that changed my life forever. Changed my view on men and how I just walk around town. I would have never gone to that dance if I knew what was going to happen. Now, every time that I see him my body goes cold, and I struggle to catch my breath. That monster ruined my life for good, and there is no changing that now. I just wish that someone would believe me when I tell them the truth. If he did it to me there has to be more victims out there too. I can’t be the only one.

The whole town decided to choose sides. No one really liked me in the first place, but when this happened their hatred only grew worse. Ever since, I have tried to tell people the truth about what happened that night, but now I am looked upon as a traitor and a monster. I am not the monster, he is. He was the one who hurt me. I guess the town doesn’t care about the crime since his father is the mayor. He is a “good boy” that could do no harm in the eyes of all the citizens here. Even though he is the mayor’s son, no one should ever get away with what he did. What makes him any different from all the rest of the people on this earth?

My memory of that night is cloaked by a thick fog that comes and goes at times. It is hard to remember any details, but sometimes the fog clears and they come back to haunt me as if it wants me to remember, as if it wants me to know how much it hurt at that moment in time. Almost every time the fog clears, and the memories become vivid once again, it takes me down a swirling drain, leading me down a winding staircase, where I trip and fall into the dark abyss from which there is no return. My anxiety spikes, wrapping around me like a leaden cloak. I isolate myself, I push everyone away! Consumed with the fear that I’ll be hurt again, to be touched again, to be labeled a liar again. I thought I would never be able to come back from this dark, swirling abyss that wraps around me like a blanket. I am protecting myself. I don’t ever want to be hurt like that again. He took a part of me, he laughed when I told him no as if it were just a game to him. No respect crossed his mind, he had no humanity.

Every night I lie awake scared. I’m terrified to sleep or even close my eyes with the fear of feeling his hands touching me. The feeling of being forced down by a man who is fifty pounds heavier than me, making my body feel weak. I had neither the energy nor the strength to lift him off of me. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t strong enough. The feeling of his hands pulling at my clothes...I was trying to wiggle away. Every ounce of my will and body wanted to be free, to be able to breathe fresh air again, fresh air that was not intoxicated by the smell of his cologne. It took a toll on me after a while, to the point where I just gave up and laid there motionless. Each nightmare is worse than the one before. Especially when I tried looking into his eyes, looking for a trace of mercy, but all I could find was a glimmer of pride...a creepy sinister glare of nothing but darkness and pleasure.

I remember getting ready in my beautiful baby blue gown excited about going to my first high school dance. My long, light brown hair shifted into a beautiful bun with crystal pins to hold it in place. My mom even let me borrow her small, delicate pearl necklace. My excitement glazed over my anxiety. Finally, I could enjoy the night for once. My friends pull up in a van and we start on our journey to the high school. The laughter filled the car with noise and jitter. Our excitement level rising the closer that we got. The roads were clear all the way to the school with nothing preventing the dance from happening. It really was a perfect night! When we entered through the gym doors it was like we were transported into an old masquerade ballroom. The room was decorated with streamers and antique decorations placed strategically along the walls and dance floor. The gym became a time machine, taking us into a magical world, filled with teenage fantasy, allowing for everyone to escape from reality. A mass of people waltzed around the floor as everyone had a unique mask that hid their identity. We pulled ours on and disappeared into the crowd. My mask was laced with blue and black bringing out my light green eyes underneath. I felt beautiful.

The night was going well until the slow ballads came on, and the guys had to ask different girls to dance with them. Each boy walking up to girls that they have never even met before and asking them to dance with them. I never thought that one of those guys could do something as vile as raping an innocent girl like myself. He pulled me away from the dance, leading me down the dark gloomy hallway, no one in sight. I followed him excitedly not thinking clearly as to what could happen. The next thing I knew he pushed me into the janitor's closet with no warning of what he was going to do. I pulled his black and white mask off not knowing what else to do. He pushed me against the wall and looked me up and down like I was meat at a butcher shop. I froze, I couldn’t do anything. I couldn’t move. I looked up into his eyes, fear sinking into my chest and my stomach. He pushed me onto the ground and pinned me under his body, using all of his weight so that I couldn’t get away. He snared my wrists over my head with his right hand while tugging and ripping at my dress with his left. The next thing I felt was him pulling up my dress and him grinding his groin against my underwear. I tried to push him off. I tried to say no but the word was caught in my throat. The more I moved the harder he gripped my wrists. The harder he pushed his body against mine, the harder it became to breathe. His full weight bore down on me. I gulped precious air, trying to remain conscious through it. I closed my eyes and all I could hear was his heavy breathing and the sound of his pants being unzipped and his belt being dropped. I screamed as loud as I could, “NO!”. That only made him furious, and he bit my neck like a wild animal that needed to be put down. He picked up his belt from the floor and trussed my hands together. He ripped my underwear to the side and thrust into me as my eyes welled up with tears. It hurts. My whole body hurts. I couldn’t fight anymore, and I just laid there waiting for him to finish. Like I was a sack of lifeless potatoes for him to have his way with the pain nipping at every inch of my body. I couldn’t do anything but cry. My vision was going in and out of focus and then blackness engulfed my sight...

Coming back into focus after what felt like hours had passed, he finished and stood up, blood on his tux pants, then simply zipped his pants and laughed. The mirror glossed, black shoes began their assault. First, my ribs, then my back as I tried to roll to protection. Finally, one sharp kick to my head, sending my head ringing, the pain echoing through my being. The leather restraint began to bruise and cut at my flesh, wrapped tightly around my hands as I balled my hands up into fists, pain shooting up my arms as I do. Each blow of his foot made contact with my body creating sharp pains in new places with each hit. I whimpered each time trying to not scream, trying not to make him any angrier. All of a sudden the blows stopped, he untied my hands took his belt and he ran out of the door, leaving me on the ground, half-naked, lying in my pooling blood, and crying in anguish, anger, and pain. I didn’t know what to do. I was lost. I was broken. In shock, I didn’t really understand what happened. Puddles of blood on the ground coming from many different parts of my body. My wrists sliced and stinging from the belt causing me to rub my wrists. The blood slowly dripped down my face and in my eyes, blurring my vision. I staggered to my feet and walked out of the room trying to put one foot in front of the other, my legs shaking badly in response. I just stood there hanging on to the doorway hoping that someone would come to save me. No one came. No one seemed to notice or care. They were all too invested in their teenage dreams to see how mine had been crushed. I wiped my eyes, smearing some blood on my face as I started to walk to the front door of the school, leaning against the wall for support. I didn’t care what I did, all I knew was that I needed to get out of there. I made it to the front steps and collapsed to my knees. It was like a wave of emotions washed over me. I sat there and cried, throwing a few punches on to the concrete ground, not caring how much it hurt. Only rage and fear coursing through my body like poison. The pain didn’t matter at that point in time. My whole body was violated, and I didn’t understand why.

Why me? What did I do wrong? Why couldn’t the pain just go away? The questions ran through my head, I couldn’t understand what had just happened. My hands bloody and scrapped, I reached for my phone and dialed the buttons, all the voices from inside being drowned out as a woman answered the call. “This is 9-1-1 dispatch, what is your emergency?” Choking on my tears only two words leaving my mouth, “It...it hurts.” I couldn’t say anything more.

The next thing I remember was the paramedics pulling up to the high school, and two women coming up to me, asking me questions that I couldn’t hear. It was like they were speaking a foreign language that I couldn’t make out. So I just drowned everything out. No one's voice mattered at that moment in time. I smelled like him. His body was on mine. I started to pull off my dress, not caring who saw me. My memory blacked out, and I don’t remember what happened after that. The next thing I remember, I was in the ambulance, covered up with blankets, the bruises starting to form on my body, the blood starting to dry on my skin. My hair no longer in a beautiful bun, strands of hair were covered in blood and tears. I just sat there looking at the blankets, flinching as one of the ladies tried to touch my arm. The fear of her hurting me more than I already was crossed my mind, and didn’t leave for a very long time. I pulled my arm away and whispered the words, “Please don’t touch me.” I don’t remember much after that. The fuzz of the events doesn’t change, I guess it was my way of trying to protect myself for the better.

All I know was that after the weekend had passed, the whole town hated me. My own school didn’t want me to be there, students and teachers alike. There were constant whispers when I would walk into a room, or even left one. There was no way of discounting that they were talking about me. It was like I was a monster that had risen from the ashes. I didn’t do anything wrong. I only tried to make things right. I tried to tell people the truth about him. No one wanted to listen, no one wanted the truth. I was bullied before this happened, but now it turned into blatant torture. I am constantly told that I wanted it and that I said I didn’t because it didn’t go well. I didn’t want any of it. I was happy before any of this happened. Even now, it’s been weeks since that night, and everyone sees me as their enemy. How could they believe him over me? When will it ever go back to normal? I guess we will never know the answers to those questions. I kept the truth inside not wanting to bring anyone else down with me. Why tell someone when they don’t want to believe the truth? He controls me with the fear that he will hurt me again. He’s threatened me to stay quiet. I can’t tell anyone or he will ruin my life more than he already has. I can’t tell anyone. I am the puppet and he is the puppet master controlling me with fear. That is how it will be until I can get out of this place. I will be living a nightmare every day that I am here. This will be my life.

Why does it have to be me? I hate asking this question because I know it happens to other girls too. It happens every day and night with different monsters like him. I guess my main question is “Why me?”. Out of all the girls at the dance, what did I do in order to make me seem like the perfect person? The flashbacks are horrible. I still have many sleepless nights. I can’t sleep through the night because his face haunts my dreams. The feeling of him coming after me haunts me constantly. His breath suffocates me as I sleep, I am not even able to catch my breath. This constant cycle tormenting me day after day. I don’t know what else to do anymore. All I can do is watch as each day goes by and hope it gets better. Medication doesn’t help when the memories come back. The flashbacks are so horrible that I go a few nights without sleeping. I still don’t know everything that happened that night. Even today, I don’t even want to know everything that happened that night. I’ve tried everything to help with the fear of him. Everything but one, I can’t make that decision, even if it feels like the last option. If I don’t he will constantly be in my life. Haunting me. Mocking me. Until I make other decisions and end the misery myself. I know there is still hope out there somewhere, I just need to find it in order to find my voice again. I can do it but it will just take time, it always takes time. When the time is right I will be able to move on from this horrible memory, and even be an advocate for others. There is hope out there, there always is, I just need to find it for myself.

The right time came a few years later. I was able to work through it, and I made the decision to start up a sexual assault victims campaign. It shares hope with other victims that were, or are, struggling to find it, like me. I am still haunted by flashbacks of course. I have grown numb to it instead of it hurting me every single time. I can’t go through my life without seeing his face every moment of the day, but I won’t allow him to hurt me anymore. I want to be able to give that to someone else who is feeling alone. This campaign allows people to share their stories and be able to feel the comfort of all the other victims. They are able to get the help that they need through this campaign when they couldn’t get it anywhere else. I hope that someday this campaign reaches as many people as it can. So many people need to know that there are people out there that will believe them. There is still hope out there.