end of the day. Maybe I should get a dog or a cat. Rescue a good one from the shelter, maybe it will be a life saving a life. Damian would shit if I got a dog since he cuts my grass. The thought of him stepping in dog shit makes me giggle because I wonder how his cool and collected self would react.
Once housekeeping was done cleaning Gage’s hall, I thought maybe he would go back to his cave and leave well enough alone. But, nope, he I guess wanted to make amends with me. Every time I turned around he was trying to talk to me, and tell me jokes. A few times I would chuckle because I couldn’t help it. It helped the time fly by, and I found that secretly I enjoyed having him there. Plus, the eye candy was fantastic. He really is gorgeous. Having all of these people around has made me open up a little bit. I don’t tell them anything about me, but I do talk more than I have in months.
My house seems so empty, not that it was ever full of anything except partying. But now it just seems so lifeless. Almost like a recently deceased person was here and nobody has inhabited it again. I guess that is kind of true because I’m not the same as I once was. But instead of how everyone talks of a rebirth when they change, I just fade away.
Stripping off my scrubs and making my way to the shower, I catch a glimpse of myself in the mirror. I hate mirrors. I want them all gone but Damian refused when I asked him to take them out of my house. He said something about ‘one day it will all be better.’ Yeah, fat chance of that. Things won’t ever be the same. I will never be that carefree, fly by the seat of my pants girl again. But I’m realizing that it is ok, I don’t need to be the party girl. I’m good with fading away into the background. I’m good with being the unnoticeable one now.
I regard the scars on my face as an annoyance because people stare. They think that I did something wrong. It seems to be the mentality of how we live in the world. Blame the perpetrator for everything he did, but most importantly, blame the victim. The victim’s actions caused the perpetrator to assault her. The victim wanted it somehow. But believe me when I say I never asked for this. I never asked for the scars on my face or the scars on the inside. I never asked to be used as his chew toy and bear the weight of being that girl from the prison every day. The news has dubbed me ‘the survivor’ but I feel anything but. Nobody really survives being raped repeatedly. They just learn to cope with the real world afterward. They become a phoenix of sorts, rising up from the ashes of the person they used to be. It is completely the victim’s choice in how they deal with the new life and the hand that life has dealt them.
The steam of the shower blocks my face from the mirror, almost blocking me from going into an even darker place. Stepping into the streaming water, I just let it cascade down my back, trying to loosen up the worries of the day. Trying to erase the memories from my mind, almost as if I can make the memories go down the drain, never to return again. Thoughts of Gage enter my mind as I soap my hair up, and I’m startled by it. I haven’t had any interest in any guy since all of this happened. Not that I am interested in him, he is a crude man. But why do I keep thinking of him? More importantly, how am I going to get rid of this attraction? He is a mean, angry, rude person, but I also get that he is wounded, damaged, scarred just like me.
After my shower, I put on my scar cream, knowing that the effort is futile. It will be a lost cause because this deep of a scar will never go away. I will forever be the girl with the X carved on her face. Depressing thought.
Now goes my routine: eat dinner, flip through the TV, go to bed, have a nightmare, then go to work. It seems since everything, it never fails. Night after night, day after day, the routine never stops. A night never goes by without waking up drenched in sweat, ready
edited by Todd Gregory
Fleeta Cunningham
Jana DeLeon
Susan Vaughan
James Scott Bell
Chris Bunch
Karen Ward
Gar Anthony Haywood
Scott E. Myers
Ted Gup