That Terrible Night

Memories aren’t always bad but unfortunately for me those that aren’t good are terrifying. One memory in particular terrifies me the most. This day broke my heart beyond any real repair.

The day began like any other day. I went to school, had a decent day, and came home. The chores didn’t seem so horrible that day because all I had to do was cook dinner. I began cooking shortly after my step-mom called me to tell me he was on his way home. I cooked spaghetti and homemade garlic bread. Dinner had tasted amazing. It had turned out the best dinner I had ever fixed. He hadn’t been acting any different that night. When he entered the door I hugged him and he threw me on his back with his arms the size of boulders. He carried me into the kitchen as he always did.
“What’s for dinner,” he questioned.
“Guess,’ I answered innocently as he put me down in front of the stove. As I expected he answered the way he always did.
“I don’ t feel like guessing. Is it done yet,” he informed.
“Yes, just sit down and I’ll get it,” I replied quickly.

We ate in silence that night which was a bit odd but I didn’t think anything of it. We watched a little bit of television before I had to leave and take my shower. I remember, we were watching CSI and it was a Thursday night. I had a bathroom in my bedroom. I got up to go to my room for my shower and went through the basics. I washed my hair and everything and got out. As I was drying myself the bastard came into my room. He grabbed me by the arms and threw me on my bed. I couldn’t move. This five foot eight inch, two hundred fifty pound monster was on top of me. He did things to me no one has a right to do to a sixteen year old girl. I won’t go into those details. I might throw up. He will remain heartless and faceless to me. He trapped me like an animal. I had never felt so alone and disgusting.

I had always believed I would know what to do if something like that happened. I was wrong so very wrong. I was paralyzed with shock at the fact he could do something like that to me. After the shock wore off a little I tried to fight back but he was too strong, and screaming was pointless. My step-mom was at work. This night had to be the worst night of my life.

After that night I was different. I couldn’t take criticism, not even constructive. I couldn’t even take watching someone feel the way I felt that night. Powerless. Pathetic. Completely alone. I had planned to run far away from him but I couldn’t. I was afraid because it didn’t matter where I went. He would find me, so I stayed. I dealt with that pain by shoving it to the back of my mind. Only my real friends could see something was wrong.

The day after, I had to torture myself by going to school. I didn’t want to be talked to, looked at, or touched. My boyfriend at the time was startled when, after he tried to hug me I jumped back and yelled,” Don’t touch me,” with more acid than he deserved. Taken off guard he replied, “What did I do now?” I apologized for snapping and told him it wasn’t his fault and when I wouldn’t tell him what was wrong, he said the words no victim wants to hear.
“Well if that’s how it is then it’s over,” so final, so complete.

I dealt with all of it for two years after the fact. It did happen more than once but I just couldn’t seem to tell anyone. I felt as though I brought it on myself for staying there, but I couldn’t tell anyone. They would never have believed me when he put on his face of the perfect person. I moved out over the summer break. Actually I got kicked out because the bastard found out I had told someone, someone I had known for only two months, my best friend. I didn’t know that “it” would find out but I’m glad he did.

I honestly believe that I am getting better at understanding what happened to me but the question of, “Why me,” always plagues my mind. Why not one of my sisters, not that I would want them to deal with what I feel, but why me? Or had he done the same thing to them. I doubt that, they would have told me. What is so special about me that “it” chose me to hurt so deeply, to scar me for the rest of my life. It is very interesting to think he is surprised I don’t trust him. He must be stupid to think I could trust anyone after what he did. But I do, I trust, not often but I trust.

He changed me. He forced me into being who I am today. The strong woman I am today. The only good thing to come out of this experience was after telling someone I felt empowered enough to tell others. I also felt certain no one could or would ever hurt me in this way again. I hope the pedophile burns in hell for what he has done. I know in my heart I should embrace what has happened and forgive but I can’t. People say all the time you should forgive and forget. I don’t think I can ever forgive him and I know, with all my heart and all the scars, I will never forget.