Things I Didn't Say ☾l.t au

Letter One

Lou. Louis. Lewis. Lo. Gosh there are so many things I could call you. So many cute ways your name could be broken down. I think I should start the letter like this, 99 days from now I will be gone. Dead. I'm not sure how I will do it yet but I want to go quick. I don't want to linger. I don't want blood and I don't want to have to be cut down so I'm leaning towards pills but this isn't what this letter is about. If you're reading this then you've found my body and I'm gone. I'm sure there are a lot of thoughts running through your mind. Questions mainly right? I'm sure one of the questions is why? Was I right? Great. Well Lou (I hope you're fine with me calling you Lou. And we'll if you're not there's not really much you can do anyway.) to figure out why you're going to have to take a step into my time machine. We'll be traveling back to ninth grade or more formerly known (to me at least) the beginning of the end. I used to wear pretty dresses and flowers and pretty bows in my hair. Remember when those were a thing? I was innocent Lou. My mother was so protective of me, I hadn't even seen a diagram of a dick Lou! Well one night I was convinced to go to a party with one of my friends and told my mom it was a sleepover. She believed my lie and she said "Have fun!" When we got to the party it was littered with people and I had my first sip of beer. It was horrible Lou. I still remember the bitter taste. The most popular guy in school then chatted me up. I thought he was nice but his gazes made me uncomfortable. I never said this. He said he wanted to go upstairs to talk more and against my better judgement I said okay. I followed him upstairs without knowing I was being lead to my figurative demise. I've never talked about this in full details but I need to. I'm gone and I want one person to know. I want you to know everything and although I don't want to I am going to say every last detail. He sat me on the bed and the bed sank indicating he was sitting next to me. The dim light ricocheted off his mirrored sunglasses. Next thing I knew his lips were on mine and I kept saying no in the back of my throat and I tried to push him off me but I couldn't he was too strong. By then the tears were flowing and he slapped me and said, "Shut up you slut you know you want it." "All the signals you've been sending, you've been undressing me with your eyes all night." To this day I'm not sure if he realized that I was not undressing him with my eyes but looking at him to anticipate his next move. His hand started slowly inching up my skirt like a spider or a snake and by then I'm whimpering and crying and pleading for it to stop but it doesn't. It doesn't stop. He lays me gingerly on the bed like I'm fine china in his eyes. That was the most fucked up part. It reminded me of the time I was four and broke one of mothers tea cups and as hard as I tried I couldn't put it back together. Even with super glue you could see the cracks in the cup and it could never hold tea again because it would always leak out. We threw the cup out a day later as it was rendered useless. In the moment he was moving inside of me I felt like that cup. I had an outer body experience during the rape. I was looking in on him taking me wherever he would fit. I felt like I was intruding on something I was never meant to see. I was crying and crying and when I could no longer cry I sat their wishing for tears to fall, something to tell me I was not dead yet. Once it finally stopped I gathered my things and as I was leaving he had the nerve to say "Call Me." As if I ever wanted to see my rapists face again. As if I actually enjoyed feeling like scum of the earth. As if I enjoyed bleeding out and getting called disgusting over something I could not control. I felt like it was my fault my no's weren't strong enough and my pretty dresses were too short. I even tried blaming it on the one sip of alcohol I had. It wasn't until years later I realized it was his fault for not realizing no meant fucking no. This was the end of my pretty dresses and hair bows. I wore black pants and shirts much to my mothers dismay. The day after the rape I was paranoid on whether or not he had worn a condom. 3 weeks later I found my answer in a positive pregnancy test. I wasn't sure how I could live knowing I was raising the child of a product of rape or even giving away a child of the product of rape so I did the only logical thing that came to my mind. I had an abortion. I was only 14. Fucking 14! I had the rest of my fucking life just taken from me! After this I didn't trust men until of course I met you. You could look in your eyes and just know you didn't have one mean bone in your body. The day I bumped into you and spilled my tea was the day I knew that I couldn't hate all men for what that one man did to me. The day I bumped into you was the first day I knew love existed and God louis I found it in your eyes, messy hair, and soft smile. I wasn't sure what the future held for us but for some reason the birds sang a little louder and the sun shone a little brighter. I wanted to climb the roof and yell to the heavens how I was in love with you but instead I whispered "sorry" and tried to clean off your tea soaked shirt.