I am not a writer…

I am not a writer. But since it is April, I have some thoughts.
When I was young, April was one of my favorite times of year. Blooming flowers, spring showers, and warmer weather.
I loved April
Until I was 19

I was 19
19 is a weird age in adolescence. Push and pull with your parents for independence, new relationships, break ups, college, jobs
19 is the age I was when I went through my first heartbreak
19 is the age that I was raped

It was just supposed to be a date. I didn’t even want to go out with him. He was rude and pushy, but I decided to go anyways and ghost him afterwards. I didn’t want to hurt his feelings.
And the goodness of my own heart. Until I was 19, I believed that the world was good, or mostly good at least.
Until I met him

He was pure evil

He lured me

To a construction site
A site next to a store I used to love shopping with my dad at
Not happening.
“This isn’t happening” was what I was saying to myself in that truck
No. No. No. No. No. No. I said no. I had started with “maybe later”, which soon turned in to a “no thank you”, which turned into a “please no.” No. No. No.

Evidence. My dad walked into my room and asked if I had showered, because I was evidence. I was evidence.
Rape. I hadn’t connected the dots. My mom said “that’s rape. She was raped”

As he drove away from me, barely stopping his car to let me out, he said “don’t go around saying I raped you or some shit”
I will never forget, how in my short 19 years I had never felt so much fear and terror in my body.

Until I was 19, April meant spring
Now, April is sexual assault awareness month
Educating, advocating, listening, sharing
I didnt even know there was a sexual assault awareness month
Not until I was 19, at least

April – October

Will always remind me of him
Not the things I used to love, like the April showers, and halloween costumes

In October, I mourn the death of my old self
I mourn the death of the girl that died in your truck
I will never be the same
Always “the girl who was raped”

Halloween used to be for dressing up, candy, apple cider,
Now, Halloween is for remembering sliding down the laundry room wall on to the floor while on the phone with 911
“He came back for me.” I could barely speak into the phone
I thought it was him
The officer told me that it was Halloween and that there were going to be strange cars in my neighborhood and that I shouldn’t worry
Easy for him to say

Now, October is my least favorite time of year
The leaves changing remind me of how I had no idea what was about to happen to me
The early sunrises and dark evenings reminded me of how you waited for it to get dark
He timed it
He knew what he was going to do
He waited until it was dark to drive me to that construction site

After October 14, 2019, I have no memory of the last 4 months of my 19th year, or the first month of my 20th

It has been 900 days since October 14, 2019
900 days I have spent trying to heal the deep, unimaginable wounds he caused me
900 days, without an apology, or even an acknowledgment of what he did.

– Anonymous