Words Left Unspoken

Logan's Letter.

                                                                                                                                                           April 28, 2009

Dear Logan,

You were my first boyfriend—my only boyfriend, really. We started dating in ninth grade, our first year of high school.

Halfway into tenth grade, you broke up with me for another girl. I was devastated, but I never held it against you. I guess I never deemed myself worthy of love—I guess you could say I expected it.

But that wasn’t the last I saw of you. Almost two years later, you came crawling back. I was wary at first. You claimed you still loved me and that you made a mistake breaking up with me. But I’d already moved on and told you I wasn't interested.

You continued to follow me for weeks after that, despite the fact that I told you I didn’t want to get back together. You probably think you were some kind of hero to me because once or twice you spoke up in my defense, but let me tell you this—you didn’t do it with all that much conviction.

You tried to be my friend, and for that I was grateful. Soon, I began to think I was wrong—that I misjudged you or that you had changed. I began to trust you.

That was a mistake—one of the biggest in my life.

I trusted you, and because I did, I tentatively allowed you inside the walls I so carefully constructed to protect my heart from shattering all over again—and I got hurt. Only this time, it was much, much worse.

I trusted you long enough to give you the chance to take me out to dinner—after you begged for weeks. That night didn’t end well, for me, anyways. I’m sure you enjoyed yourself. Just like Julia; just like everyone else that was once my friend, you turned on me.

Even though you took me to the cheapest restaurant in town, that’s not what ruined my night—it was what happened after dinner.

You dragged me back to your house to “hang out”. I was a bit leery of your insistence, but went along. When we arrived at your house, you took me up to your room because I wasn't feeling well. Suddenly, out of the blue, I was very dizzy and very tired. If it weren’t for your arm around me, I’m not sure I would have even made it up the stairs.

I passed out in your room, and when I woke up.... I was terrified of what I saw. Those images haunt me to this day. I shudder even as I write this. There is nothing I wish for more, as I lay awake, late into the night, than to forget that whole day.

You, Logan, violated my trust—but that’s not where you stopped. You violated me!  You raped me.

I saw the pictures on the Internet. You were pretty proud to spread the news that you slept with the biggest “slut” in school—of course, how you managed it was left unmentioned. Why would anyone question my participation in the event? My reputation didn’t cast even a shadow of doubt in their mind. They probably thought it was my idea—that I begged you.

If there was anyone left who still believed I wasn’t the person people were saying I was, you made up their minds—turned them against me.

You were the only person I had come to trust again in the last few months of my life. When you betrayed my trust, I realized something.

No one is to be trusted. No one can ever really care about me. Anyone who claims otherwise is a liar, using me for their own purposes.

Just like you did.

I hope you see me in your dreams for the rest of your life so you never forget what you did—how you ruined my life…what little was left of it anyways…

Sleep tight,

Gracie.