Zara's words ...
June 8, 2015
Reading this again, brings it all back.
But at least this time, I can read it without the river of tears and shame.
What happened to me, could have happened to anyone.
It is amazing what stress and depression can do to you and how quickly it can enter your life and turn it into a living nightmare.
I never thought such a thing could happen to me and what troubled me the most, as I look back now, is that my life went from one of happiness and contentment, to one that sunk into the depths of hell.
And did so in less than one day.
Once again, Bill and I have filled in some blanks and finally I am able to present this brief period of my life, as it happened.
~~~~~~~~~~
(Originally posted April 6, 2013)
The following part of this story is taken from hours of interviews and thousands of tears. I am going to let Zara's own words tell this part of the story. A story I was told for the first time, less than a year ago.
We all knew about that night but Zara had never spoken much about what had happened. For many years the only one who knew the whole story, was Jay.......
I never told anyone else. I was so ashamed of myself and I had no idea why. Jay kept telling me that none of it was my fault, but I still felt that if things had been different. If I had made different choices years ago, well ....
I still believe, to this day that I am to blame for all of this. In my youth, I was naïve and scared, as a young adult I was selfish and scared, and as an adult, I was simply scared. Scared of how people would react. How Zoey would react.
I am scared right now. Even though I have made peace with myself over this whole thing, I will be honest. I still have nightmares about it. Sometimes I wonder if what I remember is actually what happened or was it a combination of fear, terror, booze, shame and some enhanced dream.
It seems like it all happened a lifetime ago. At the time it seemed like I was living a lifetime.
It was only 8 hours.
I awoke to darkness. I couldn't focus on anything. My head was pounding from the scotch. I don't drink scotch.
I stood up and felt like I was going to faint. I was all alone.
I heard a car pulling away.
I remember thinking,
'That fucking piece of shit Jeff. When I needed someone the most, he bailed on me.'
I yelled, "Fuck you, you fucking prick."
I started crying again. Reality was kicking in. Even in my half drunken stupor, the events of the night were coming back to me.
