Another year has passed since what you did to me that night. Another year of feeling the trauma. Another year of nightmares. Another year of flashbacks. Another year of therapy with no end in sight. Another year here in hell.
I am still living inside a moment you got to walk away from.
At least I made it through this one without trying to kill myself. That is what survival looks like now — not healing, not peace, just endurance measured year by year.
I still do not believe you understand what you took from me. I don’t think you can ever comprehend the evisceration of every protective barrier in my life that kept me sane and functional and safe that happened when what you put me through that night came to light. You didn’t just hurt me in a moment — you altered the conditions under which I exist.
I will forever be changed by this. I can never go back. That’s the realization of the past year — there is no undoing it. I have to live my life having been stripped down to raw nerves that would take an eternity to heal.
It has cost me everything I had left I was clinging on to in my life. You cost me everything I had. All I have left is the moral compass that drives me to this fight through and to see you brought to justice. Not closure — just continuation.
I’ve almost given up a thousand times. I’ll probably almost give up a thousand more before it’s done. You made that decision for me that night and the nights after — when your will and your wants overpowered my body.
You claim to fear me now. If only you had feared me then. You would have never done that to me. I told you that you were one of my safe people. A person I knew would never cause me physical harm. I was wrong. The danger was not a stranger in the dark. It was the person I trusted enough not to defend myself against.
You are the person, however, who has seen to it I never place myself in a position like that again. Next time I fight. Fist, tooth, and nail should anyone hurt me and ignore my pleas. What you taught me was not strength — it was vigilance.
If I had known I could take you in those moments, that’s what the dreams are; it’s happening but this time I’m fighting. That is why I wake up screaming and punching and kicking and why I don’t sleep at night anymore. I’m fighting you. All night. Every night. My body is still responding to a threat that already happened.
So late at night, if you ever wake with that weight in your chest and a feeling you can’t explain, understand this: I never got to leave that moment cleanly.
You had that night.
I have every night after.
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