His name.

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I'm fine until someone says his name.

His name makes me feel disgusted.

Violated.

Horrified.

I feel it.

I feel him.

On my shoulders.

My breasts.

My body.

The shivers I felt when he leaned towards my ear.

I remember it all.

In a blink of an eye.

My body shakes.

My eyes sting.

My throat burns.

Everything feels like it's underwater.

It's like a flip of a switch.

One second I'm okay.

The next, I want to scream.

I don't want to feel him anymore.

I don't want to remember him.

And yet.

Everyone speaks of him.

To him.

About him.

My feelings mean nothing.

My trust has been broken.

I don't feel like me anymore.

But a husk of what I once was.

It's their fault.

Not mine.

If they kept him away after it happened.

I wouldn't be like this.

If they trusted my words.

If they believed me.

I would be okay.

But I'm not.

I won't be.

Nothing will make this okay.

My chest burns with hatred.

It's as if I feel no remorse for them anymore.

I want to spit venomous words at them.

They changed me.

I don't feel like me.

And yet.

People will say it's my fault.

My fault he raped me.

My fault he touched me.

My fault I made a big deal about it.

It will never be my fault.

It will always be his.

And it will forever be everyone else's fault for keeping him around.

I feel disgusted.

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