**trigger warning from last chapter**
Telling anyone what happened in my past has never been part of the plan. The plan was to move on and never think about it ever again.
Group therapy never did anything for me. I sat on a plastic chair and listened to the horrific stories of the men and women who also attended. I never told them my story.
I don't know what it was but something about talking to a circle of strangers about something so personal doesn't exactly appeal to me. But I went for two sessions and never went back. I didn't need those random people telling me that I'm valid and that they're here for me and that they understand, because in reality they don't. None of them went through what I went through, sure they've had similar experiences but it's not the same.
And group therapy didn't make me feel less alone, even though I know that's the aim. It made it worse, if anything, because after the meeting you all say goodbye and go back to your life, alone as you were before, like it had never even happened.
And so, I bottle up the pain and the trauma and the heartbreak and keep it inside, weighing down on me. It's something I'll always carry with me, I can't run away from it.
You can't run away from rape.
Rape is such a disgusting word. It's harsh and it's aggressive.
And it's perfect to describe the vile act it's pinned to.
But what I went through shouldn't be summarised in one word with one syllable and four letters. It makes something so complex seem so simple. It makes the longevity of the after effects seem negligible and I don't think anyone would be able to fathom the extent of the problem unless they lived through it.
Rape is an umbrella term. I don't care if you disagree. Rape is not done in one specific way. Each survivor's story is different and every rape is separate from another. And my story is fucking long.
I've since turned away from Jack, not being able to look at him after what I told him, fearful for his reaction. I feel his eyes burning into the back of my skull, his mind probably full of questions and concerns.
I wait for what he has to say, not wanting to speak first. In all honesty I'm not sure what I'm meant to do now. I never planned on this information being out in the open and have no idea how Jack is going to react. I don't even think I know how I want him to react. But I sit patiently waiting for something. For what I'm not sure. Jack? Inspiration? I don't know, I'm just as unsure as him in this situation.
Before I am able to do anything I feel arms wrap around me from behind. I grab onto Jack and lean back into his chest, relishing in his embrace for a while. He just holds me, knowing exactly what I need even when I don't. I can't help the tears that start falling. I'm not ashamed of them, feeling all the emotions and guilt that weighed me down leaving my body with their release.
Finally, I pull back and look at him. He brings his hand up to my face and wipes away the tears. "I-I need to explain..." I say to him as I calm down.
Jack tucks a strand of hair behind my ear, leaving his hands on my face. "You don't need to explain anything. And I won't say I understand because I don't and I never will. But just know that you're with me and you're safe and it will be okay eventually."
"No, I want to. I don't think it's fair on either of us to leave it there." I climb off him and pull him around so we're sitting opposite each other. "You see, it was Joe, my ex-" Jack's jaw visibly tenses and I see his fists clench. I reach out and rub his arm. "It's fine," I tell him, still a bit choked up.
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I Don't Date Stupid ✓
Teen Fiction"So, Juliet? Will you date me?" Jack asks. "No, I don't date stupid," I flat out lie to his face. "Come on, Kat, you wouldn't be dating stupid! You'd be fake dating stupid," he reasons with a grin. Sure, because that's so much better. +++ He calls h...