Almost Raped...Now I Cut
From Todaycollegetour
“Hey, can I get the time?” I believe that this question sucked the innocence out of me. The summer before middle school I walked home after dark from the theatre next to my house, and a handsome twenty something black man started small talk with me. (breath) I wanted to impress him so I lied about my age, which (pause) I am sure he knew from my looks. He asked about what school I went to, what I liked to do?
About half way to my house we stopped at a neighborhood park were he then informed me he had a gun (deep breath and start to hold hands nervously) and that I would not want to do anything stupid. What are you supposed to do in these situations? So I did what he demanded and followed inward over the stone bridge. Houses were two hundred feet away and thick trees enveloped us. My young body was forced into the tree and his rough cumbersome hands proceeded to touch my face and arms eventually getting to my breast. At that moment so many thoughts were speeding in my mind, and I tried to convey myself to him as a person and not as a victim. I told him how old I actually was, where I went to school and, about my family. He ripped my shirt open and smothered his big cold black lips over my neck and collar bone.
I could not believe that this was actually happening to me.
The energy in the air shifted and he suddenly backed away from his victim. In a small, ashamed voice he told me to go home.
I had so many thoughts racing through my mind.
What if I tell someone and they do not believe me?
Was it my fault because I had flirted with him? Not to mention the multiple feelings I had.
Shame. Guilt. Anger. Fear. But most of all disbelief.
How could this happen to me? I live in a safe neighborhood, with very few black people.
My parents were already upset with me since I had been late getting home. So I went and took a scolding hot shower and tried to scrub away the “icky” feeling.
It has been tucked into my dirty laundry and was not told to anyone until.. well.. now.
I struggled to get by every moment of every day. I am extremely depressed.
So I cut myself to escape; its my soft place to lay.
All I want to do is sit in my room and listen to the radio so loud I can not even hear myself breathe.
Last night I went back and forth in my mind about why I was so despondent about my life. The most significant reason was this untold experience buried inside. I let myself become the victim and I have lost my voice.
When I cut myself I become the predator. Since I am cut I amalso the victim. When I take care of my cuts I become my hero.
Self- mutilation is my way of expressing what happened to me that dark night and it releases my intolerable emotional pain.
This is why I am coming to you… For help.
