DEAR D (pen pal edition) ✔️

85

⚠️TW: mention of rape⚠️

DELIA

January 9th
Dear D,
Everything's going to shit. I can't take it anymore. I wanted to tell you sooner, but I was afraid you'd see me differently. You'd treat me differently, just like everyone else. I couldn't have that. I've had to rewrite this 3 times because the paper kept getting wet from my tears. I'm still crying now. I thought it'd be better if I kept this a secret. If I never talked about it, this horrible nightmare would go away. It wouldn't be real. Just a bad memory, locked away, I'd never have to remember.

I can't keep it to myself anymore. It's killing me.

Something happened me to over the summer before senior year. I didn't tell you because I didn't want you to worry about me. But I'm telling you now because no one believes me. I need someone to believe me. You're my best friend. You'd trust me, right? I was invited to a summer party mid-July. I didn't plan on going, but this girl from my Biology class (that I'm kind of friends with) needed a designated driver.

So much happened at that party. You know my middle school bullies? All that shit they've put me through over the years? This was 100 times worse. It sounds unbelievable. At least, that's what the police said when I tried talking to them about it. They called me a liar. I was being overdramatic and making stuff up for attention, that the death of my uncle was causing me to spiral out of control.

The police didn't believe me. The school didn't believe me. Even the church didn't believe me. No one will. That's why I'm telling you everything. I know you'll believe me and one person believing me is enough. I just need you to know the truth.

After my friend and I got there, she immediately started drinking, but I didn't. (Because I'm her designated driver, of course). I should've let her find another ride. Going was a mistake. The biggest fucking mistake of my life. The party was a trap. For me, specially. Any crime committed off of school grounds is someone else's problem, so I'm not a burden to the school. It's so hard to write this. I can't stop crying. I'm sorry.

Okay. I'm back now. I broke down and cried for an hour again. There's stupid pencil smear marks all over the paper. I'm sorry. Aunt Sue blames herself. I don't know why. I think she's taking the blame so I won't blame myself. So the guilt won't eat me alive. But I do. I blame myself. It wasn't her fault; it's mine. I trust too much.

My friend and I went down to the basement because she wanted to play Beer Pong. I just tagged alone because she was the only person I knew (and liked) at the party. An hour or so passed and someone brought my friend and I drinks. I didn't think anything of it. I was drugged. Roofied by those middle school bullies. They were all waiting for me down there. I don't remember much, but I remember this horrible laughing. Someone poured beer on me and I was pushed on the couch.

That's when things got worse. Two guys took turns raping me. Everyone watched. Every fucking person down there just stood and watched and didn't do ANYTHING! No one tried to help me! They just... laughed. Like it was the biggest joke in the world. I woke up 2 days later, in my underwear, four blocks away. I was unconscious for 2 days.

The doctor was suspicious of my injuries. He thinks I was on meth or something and just 'partied hard'. That's what he told Aunt Sue after she requested a rape kit test (which was denied). I've been dealing with it for the past couple months. I thought I was done with that horrible night, but then something happened.

The pastor at church found out what happened. Or at least what those kids told him. I'm sure they lied and covered everything up. They probably said I was drinking and doing drugs and hooking up with people left and right. He called Aunt Sue and said I wasn't allowed back at church anymore. I'd have to attend the online service.

Do you know how embarrassing it is to have a pastor tell you you're not welcome at church anymore?

Love, Delia