Speak & Listen

WHEN IT SANK IN...

WHEN IT SANK IN...

I was far from safe, I was far from secure even when I had Jeremiah as a boyfriend. I told him I needed a break from him, a break from everyone. It was three days later, it was on a Friday on a rainy day when it all sank in. When voices began talking to me again, shaming and humiliating me.

Laughing at me. It had been three days as well since I've seen my mother. Where was I?

In my room. Where the vile thoughts drowned me. Told me what I was...a victim. A rape victim. A subject to bullying. I was also a threat, apparently. And just like I anticipated, it had been three days and there has been no report or response about the person responsible for the set bomb beneath my car.

So I fell into a depression, for the first time. It was self-diagnosable. Why did I say so? Because I didn't just feel sad, and the sadness didn't just last for a day or two...it lasted for a while. It felt like nothing, that's how it feels. It feels like trying to find a sound in silence but failing to get it. It was like a neverending fever, a parasite feeding off my soul and it's not that I hated it, the problem was the fact that I liked it.

I liked being in my room, crying and not eating, not responding to the knocks on my door but just depressing music from Beck, Billie Eilish, Lykke Li, Bon Iver and so many more on the playlist I created titled "Adrian is dying." I liked the idea that I was so close to death, I was so close to escaping high school drama.

My fingers had a discomforting feeling, due to the dry blood on my nails. I had continued scratching again, but it didn't happen so often. Only when anxiety crept in when I get ready for bed at night. It was the fear of the unknown...always in constant fear that something may happen. I'd think of the worst when the lights were off at 3 am at night.

I'd suddenly think of the whole town mobbing to my apartment and burning our house with me inside it. I'd imagine that if I would walk out of the house, someone would be following me around with a sniper or worse yet, I would think of one of the jocks invading the house, only to bully and rape me again. I would also think of the bomb, I'd think of that one jock who called me a 'faggot' at the school hall. I'd also think...

I took a tissue, wiping the tears that never seemed to fade from my eyes. All I knew was the fact that no one wanted me, everyone hated me and the reason why everything happened to me and other victims is because I had written those letters. Without those letters, if they never existed, if I had never trusted Sophia if I had not said anything at all...everyone would still be okay.

But it was this...regrets and 'what if's' and 'could have been's'. Nothing was okay, and our lives had changed forever. I couldn't imagine myself being able to trust another person, or at least love them. I didn't think I'd be bitter towards a good Samaritan, but I'd still be living in insecurities.

I had not washed, changed clothes nor have I moved a single muscle for three days. I haven't eaten anything, however, I had been drinking water when I'd urinate in the bathroom, and would drink from the basin's cold water tap. But other than that, I had been pretty miserable for three days.

Unfortunately, that Friday I had to submit a Wuthering Heights essay due that day. I had to be at Mr Word's class by 9 am.

It took me an hour to get ready. I could, for some reason, use one crutch all so suddenly. I ate my cereal and with milk spill on my face, I jetted out of the house with my mouth still full. It was half-past 8 already. I limped to my car, obviously I had made sure to look for any bombs before getting in.

I drove in silence. The tears now were just ridiculously unstoppable. Even when I wanted them to, they just didn't. I had listened to my thoughts too much, despite them telling a lie. I believed every slur, every comment, every judgement they said about me. It was easy to believe them when you were that vulnerable and sensitive.