TW: Mentions of rape, flashbacks
If you only had two words left, what would you say?
I know what I’d say: I’m sorry.
I’m the kind of person who gets hurt and blames myself for it. I guess it’s just how I was raised. My dad never understood that I have my own emotions, he expected me to obey, like a little robot. I never understood my body, it always felt, inhuman. Like it wasn’t mine and I was just borrowing it. Like I stole it from someone who deserves it. I’m not even sure I have my own body until my glasses fog up in a burning hot shower. I’d do anything to feel alive again.
***
I got my chance. He made me spin with anxiety, vomit out all thoughts of happiness, but at least I felt something. I wasn’t allowed to tell him “No,” he didn’t stop when I bled, but it was okay for a while, because I felt something other than- nothing. Then I grew numb to him too.
I followed blindly like a birdie in a cage.
School bathroom? Sure. Let me guess, not a sound or I’m dead? Got it.
On the walk home, in the bushes? No problem.
It became a chore to get raped, it didn’t even scare me anymore.
That’s when he brought out knives.
***
I touch the scar left on my neck. It doesn’t hurt anymore. It’s been five years, so to be fair, it shouldn’t hurt. But it burns when other people touch it. It rips my heart again and I just want to kill.
My best friend accidentally touched it once. I don’t think she even knew she touched it. But she did. It took 4 people to hold me down.
It’s my first day at my new school. It’s a college. Tarnick University. I don’t know who in their right mind names a place ‘Tarnick,’ but that’s on them! But hey, on the bright side, Harry Potter went to a place called Hogwarts and had a whole rags-to-riches story. Maybe this won’t be so-
“Nope. This is terrible. Who am I kidding? I can’t go to COLLEGE! Who am I kidding, I’m a fucking idiot! How on earth am I going to survive this? I can throw a punch-”
“Deep breaths Charlie- jesus. No need to have a panic attack on your first day!”
“Right- deep breaths. Deep- NOPE! FREAKING OUT!”
It was then I felt a slap that I needed, coming from my older sister, Diane. She’s taken care of me since I was 16. She taught me how to pass as a guy. She gave me a home when I had no where else to go, and she knew when I needed a little push, or in this case, slap.
“Shut up and go! I love you, have fun!”
“You’re not going to help me decorate my dorm?”
“You want to be escorted by your sister? Fine, be a Momma’s boy.” She picked up a box from the trunk.
“NO! I’m okay! Nevermind! I love you sis!”
She chuckled, dropped the box, and pulled me into a hug.
“Love you too Charlie, now try not to get too drunk, and call me if you ever need a ride. Don’t even THINK about driving drunk, unless it’s about thinking how much you shouldn’t, in which case the thought is excusable in the event that you DON’T DO IT!”
“You lost me there-” I managed to get a couple of words out. It was an abnormally tight hug.
“No violence, try not to break any laws, and whatever you do, don’t be a doormat.”
I smiled at the last bit of advice. “No doormattery, good idea! I’ll be a shoe brush instead so the doormat doesn’t get too dirty.”
“Charlie…” Diane murmured a warning.
“Okay okay sorry! Jokes, all jokes!”
“Mhm. Get inside!”
I laughed and hugged her again before picking up a few of my boxes.
“You know, an escort wouldn’t be so bad. These boxes are heavy.”
“Pussy.” She smiled and picked up a few boxes. “Let’s go!”
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Stockholm Syndrome
Teen FictionHey Readers! Just a heads up, this has a lot of shit going on. 100% for mature audiences! Please don't read if you get triggered by mentions of rápé, súícídal thoughts, or ábuse, or just skip the chapters that contain those. I will put as few of tho...
