Justin, a memory.

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I was drunk.

I was drunk so it’s all my fault. I know it was not but I feel that it was.  I should have stopped him but in that moment I knew exactly that this was what I had been asking for. How I had been acting. How I had been taunting and teasing and trying to cut loose but for that I have been punished. I had wanted someone to love me but never like this, never like this, never like this. I wanted to be safe. I wanted to be happy. That was not an invitation to take me, to push me onto the bed where you thought no one would find us, to pull my clothes off and kiss my skin in places I did not want you to touch.

I wanted to sleep and never wake up, what I wanted was to disappear into some other place where nothing like this could ever happen but I can’t and I couldn’t so  I wanted to burn my skin in the places you touched, dissolve myself in acid as if I had been soiled by your hands and your mouth. As if it was apparent to everyone, as if it was my fault. The word “whore” tattooed, burned, into my forehead because they might as well have been. I went back to school and I saw how they looked at me I saw the change; they all knew. They all knew. The worst part was I still have to face that night. I have to face your touch and your impeccable reputation that I cannot unhinge through all my efforts to redeem my sanity because you had the nerve to brag. You bragged about how my skin tasted and how you touched me in middle of that night because I asked for it. I have asked for many things but never this: there’s a difference between asking for a drink or asking for a cigarette and asking for someone to push you down and remove your clothes, your safety, your very dignity itself. All I wanted was sleep and safety and now I cannot find either.

 I was drunk and I could not stop him.

I did not have a choice. I did not have a choice because I did not say no and I did not move. As if my silence wasn’t loud enough and my stillness was not an indicator that I did not want this. I never wanted this. I did not have a choice and I am much too small and I was much too weak. But now? Now I have gained so much strength, I have found my voice and I have learned how to punch. It is not my fault and it was never my fault but I do not let my guard down, I do not allow people in, I do not lose my sense and I will not be touched again.

I will plant my fist in your face and I dare you, I invite you, to try to hurt me now.

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