#metoo

This is a story of a day I can't seem to forget. Believe me, I've tried. Caution: this may be a trigger warning for some people. Read with caution and exit if needed. Thank you for reading.

16 years old. No more than 5 miles from my safe and loving home. Not the first time a man has invaded my innocence but the most memorable, the scar most deep. It's always the most inconvenient times that my mind brings me back like when I sit on my boyfriend's lap. My boyfriend who really loves me and never tries to harm me. At first I blamed myself after the event. Was it the shorts I was wearing? My mom might not approve if I wore those anywhere besides hiking. They were sport shorts. But I had no makeup, messy hair pulled back into a ponytail, a long camp t-shirt, and an ugly shade of green shorts...how could he have found me desirable anyway? I was still a girl, did he like the innocence? I had heard people often times blame themselves after an assault. I read all about it, saw it in films. So it's not my fault, never could be, I try to convince myself. But I still think, if only I hadn't been too trusting when he first approached me! If only I hadn't even begun to reply to a stranger's attempt to make conversation with me! Maybe I let the conversation go on for too long that I welcomed the disaster. If only I had my phone closer and called my parents the moment I felt uncomfortable instead of leaving it in the zipper pocket of my backpack! But he was an old man and we're told to respect our elders. Old as my grandpa, how could he be a threat, so I let him near. He held me down, pushing his palms deep into my thighs so I couldn't get up. I feel it sometimes still like his hand prints are left on me. Hand prints all over me, they seem to glow in the dark. Dirty, wrinkly hand prints all over my body. He grabbed my hand when I tried to stop him from putting his cracked lips on mine. He was missing some teeth. He told me it was okay, that I should feel safe with him. He understood me. Well, he understood that I was alone. I looked around desperate for someone to see, to be on my side. Why did I choose a secluded spot to stop for a moment and sit? That was my second stupid move after the shorts. Why does my mind keep bringing up the shorts? He told me I would meet a young boy one day who would fall in love with me and I'd let him have all of my beautiful body. He started to touch. He wasn't the one I let have all of me but he decided he wanted to be. What made him think he could decide that? I always thought in that kind of situation I would run, I would fight, I would beat. In every scenario I played in my head I would come out victorious and stronger. But real life doesn't always work that way. But it's not my fault, it's his. He will take the blame. I choose not to live a victim everyday or suffer with anger. Anger only hurts me. And I have enough hurt. I have peace knowing I am not his judge. I am worthy and still a fighter. And I did come out stronger. Nothing I ever did that day was my fault.