I am sitting down in this half lit room, hearing footsteps across the hall as my grandma walks by the bathroom, towards the kitchen, towards me, as I sit here in silence trying to quiet myself from saying over and over again, "I'm going to be ok." It's constant. My grandma says goodnight to me at 2:30 am because she is waiting for my mom to pick me up from here.
This quiet place. Iv never heard anything more quiet. Ironic right? I'm sitting here in pure silence as images from my uncle come screaming into my mind flash back into my eyes of him unbuttoning my school pants. Remembering the struggle he had doing it as he began to get frustrated. I hear the unzipping of my pants replay in my head like a catchy song. I can't stand but to cringe as I hear it over and over.
I sit here in silence listening to my thoughts. My flashbacks. My nightmares. I feel like I'm paralyzed. Paralyzed with disgust of what happened to me that afternoon. I see him. Even if my eyes are closed shut to where I can't even see darkness. I see him. I see him trying to lick me. I see him trying to touch me. I see him trying to work his hands down my pants as if he were looking for something. He was. I'm just not sure why. I don't think I will ever be sure why.
Why me? Why in my house? Why on that couch? Why him?
I still feel him. I feel his hand wrapped around my throat. I feel him clenching as I kept moving away. I feel him unbuttoning my uniform. I feel him guiding his hands down my chest as if he was a blind man and my chest was braille. I feel him grabbing my chest as if it were something he needed to have. A life necessity. No matter how hard I shut my eyes and squirm I still see him finishing in his hand and walking away from me as if I weren't there.
As if I were never there.
No matter how hard I try or how much I talk about it. I will never forget how I felt. What I saw. What he did. These thoughts have gone away for some time. Till the topic "rape" comes up. In a movie, in a random conversation across the room, in a book. Anywhere. The topic appears and so do my thoughts. No matter how much I cringe, it will always be there. They will never go away. Just like my uncle. Till the day he dies. I never thought I'd wish death upon anyone. Unless it was my self. He sickens me. The thought, sight, even if his name is brought up it makes my heart cringe. It makes my heart skip a beat. Not nearly in a good way.
I hate him. Iv never truly hated someone. But I detest him. With everything in my being. He disgust me. He disgust me because he made me feel the same way I feel about him. I am disgusted with myself. I hate my self. Almost as much as I hate him. I feel used. I feel disgusting. I feel lesser. I feel like trash. I feel like I'm nothing but a useless toy. I hate him.
I sit here in this quiet place wishing I were somewhere I couldn't hear my own thoughts. I sit here wishing I could stop cringing. I sit here wishing I could stop thinking. I sit here wishing I could just escape. I sit here wishing I could just run away and forget this ever happened. I sit here wishing I could stop crossing my legs so tight so I can feel secure. So I can feel safe as if nothing is happening right now. I sit here wishing I can stop saying over and over "I'm going to be ok" like a mantra. Squirming in my seat repeating it to myself with my eyes shut so hard I can feel it in my gut, "I'm going to be ok."
This was my life in July 19, 2017.
It is currently June 27, 2019 and I see myself as someone who is worth something. A part of me died that late afternoon. I had to mourn the loss of me. My soul. The old me. I finally took the last step. I have forgiven myself even though it was not my fault. I have forgiven my uncle even though I will never be the same. I changed like the seasons and I am proud of who I am today. I am a new person. I like this person. I love this person. I am Carolina Caldera. I am new and I am worth it.