𝐁𝐢𝐭𝐭𝐞𝐫𝐬𝐰𝐞𝐞𝐭 𝐅𝐚𝐭𝐞 | 𝟏𝟖+

𝟎𝟐 | 𝐂𝐑𝐈𝐄𝐒 𝐅𝐎𝐑 𝐘𝐎𝐔

WARNING.
MENTIONS OF RAPE AHEAD.

𝐚𝐮𝐫𝐨𝐫𝐚 𝐜𝐚𝐫𝐭𝐞𝐫
-𝟏.𝟓 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫𝐬 𝐚𝐠𝐨-

The man above me shows no mercy as he rips my leggings off of me. He's rock solid, and he's heavy. There's a massive pile of rocks on me, weighing me down so I'm frozen as he mutters to himself.

I'm blocking everything out. My cries are silenced by his hand, my breathing is frantic. But I'm refusing everything. Every emotion, every thought, every touch.

I shouted. Shouted for what seemed like years until I gave up, and now I'm here. Giving up. Hopeless. Broken. My consent is being stripped by every second his fingers are on me.

I always thought: if that would be me, I'd fight. I'd fight until I'm on my last dying breath and I'll die a happy woman that I managed to defend myself.

I mentally laugh at myself. I won't make this out alive, by the way the drunken man is frantically rushing, nipping at my skin. He's already rough and he's not even forcefully penetrated in me yet.

I'm not able to defend myself. I'm not drunk, I'm not high, I'm fine. I just so happened to be at the wrong place at the wrong time.

And this is my payment.

And I want to slit my own wrists before even thinking about what's yet to come. I don't want this. I want to scream, but I can't. He'll get angry, and he'll be even more rough.

I silently cry, tears soaking my cheeks and I'm choking on the lack of air I'm receiving. Everything hurts. My thighs hurt, and my chest is bare, the cold LA air hitting them.

I'm scared, terrified even. And no one is here to help me.

Not when he's taking his trousers off. Not when he's ripped my underwear off of me. Not when he forces himself in and I cry out in complete agony. And not when I'm coating him in my blood.

Not when he eventually ditches me in a random alleyway with his cum covering my stomach.

And certainly not when I'm screaming out for my ex boyfriend's name, even though I know he's in New York, the heavy sobs breaking up my voice.

Alessandro.

Please.

WARNING.
MENTIONS OF SUICIDE AHEAD.

-𝟏 𝐲𝐞𝐚𝐫 𝐚𝐠𝐨-

Dear Mom,

I want to say sorry. If you're reading this letter, I'm probably dead in my bathroom somewhere, blood everywhere. Either that or I'm on the floor overdosed. I know we never had a good relationship, in truth you were a shitty mother but I loved you no matter what. You was never there for me, not when I lost my baby and certainly not when I came to you after I got my voice stripped from me by a random man. You told me it was my fault. I shouldn't leave my house at night. But I was going to get my dog some food, but somewhere along the way, you've convinced me it was in fact my fault.

I should've known better, and I'm sorry.

I love you.
Goodbye x