This post contains explicit content regarding sexual assault. Please proceed with caution.
Halfway through my 6th grade year I started seeing a boy, Elijah. He was damaged. His father worked crazy hours and was never home. His brother smoked weed all day everyday and turned the house into his own personal flop house. His mother rarely in the picture.
Elijah, although damaged, was endearing in a dangerous way. He could look at me and I would shatter. Every word he told me snaked around my mind. He wrapped me in his sweatshirts like a noose. His tongue like a boa suffocating me. In a world with my mother, it seemed like a gift.
I lived 3 blocks from him, so sneaking out became second nature. There were days I’d even go to his house in the morning on my walk to school and just make out for 45 minutes.
One afternoon we had skipped school. I wore a pink mini skirt for the occasion. It started out innocent enough. We laid on his bed kissing and watching tv. Then the inevitable question arose, the one every 16 year old teenage boy wants to ask.
To begin I reluctantly said yes. As we started my willingness started to decline. I could feel my tongue swelling like I couldn’t breathe. I burst out into tears and tried to refuse. Suddenly the cute little pink skirt I wore didn’t seem so innocent.
He held me down by my wrists and I started to sob. His weight on me felt like a brick wall. I trusted him. I thought I loved him. Suddenly the tears stopped and I laid there like a comatose patient waiting to wake up from a nightmare. My insides screamed as my body couldn’t move. I wanted to fight back but the weight of my body wouldn’t let me move.
Thoughts started pouring into my head that seemed to contradict themselves. “He loves me,” “he’s hurting you! Move!.” “If I move he won’t love me.” I was desperate….. at age 12 I was raped I didn’t even realize what was happening. I swear I didn’t even know the word.
As soon as it was over those endearing eyes turned cold and harsh. His demeanor was no longer what it was. It was like he lifted the veil on who he was hiding; a monster.
I gather my clothes and tried to gather my thoughts but it was racing. I walked out of the room with not a word. I started walking to my house. Then the walking turned to jog and the jog turned to sprinting. I ran faster than I ever ran before. The tears that were wallowing inside me during had finally sprung a leak and then burst.
I ran to my room and began to undress. The clothes now felt dirty. And they were. I looked down and saw the blood. My eyes were so puffed up by this time I had to blink to make sure I was seeing it right. I hid my panties in the bottom drawer behind my teddy bears I had thought I’d outgrown. God did I want that back.
I laid in bed for weeks. My mother wondering what was wrong but I always told her “I’m fine, I don’t want to talk about it.” But my mind continued to scream for weeks, months. I was broken.