The Only Ones Who Know

Sun, 04/05/2015 - 03:31 -- kb97

Location

Mother

 

Says she cares

That she'd have stopped it

"If I would have just told her when it was happening"

(I was five)

But then says 

"I thought you moved on already"

Even though I just found a diary from Kindergarten

With a picture (a scribble) of me and him

And words scrawled across the page

In little kid letters

"whAt is sLOt meAn?"

What does slut mean?

 

 

Father 

 

Thinks it means me.

He didn't do it.

Even though I don't know who did

I know it wasn't him.

But he thinks it was my fault

Because I didn't tell anyone.

I. WAS. FIVE.

He doesn't even completely

Believe me that it happened

Because I don't rememeber every detail

And I didn't tell anyone so there's nobody to blame

And I didn't tell my parents until seventh grade.

 

 

Best friend

 

Is amazing.

A lifesaver.

She listens to me

She believed me

She didn't think I was disgusting.

She didn't start to treat me differently.

She loves me anyway

Even when I can't love myself. 

I trust her more than anyone

She is the only person I feel completely safe with

And I am ashamed to say

I ever thought she might run away screaming.

 

 

Me

 

I have told my mother, my father, my friend, my psychiatrist, my first and second therapists

And it has never been easy.

I feel slimy and disgusting every time

And it feels like his hands are on me all over again

And I sometimes disappear into myself.

I no longer feel my cheeks burning or the tears threatening to overflow.

Instead I hide.

And the dreams are the worst 

Because the next day is completely filled with anxiety whether I take my Xanax or not.

And I wish I had told when I was five

Because what if he hurts another little girl

Who will also be too scared to tell? 

 

 

Him

 

He haunts my dreams.

His phantom hand slides up my leg

Towards the spot it should never have gone

And I shake and cry even though he's not here

And I haven't seen him since I was six 

And we moved. 

He saw a girl who was four almost five

Then five almost six

And his disgusting mind thought

It would be okay to touch her.

And the worst part is

I don't even know who he is.

 

And if it weren't for the other little girls

He will hurt someday

Who I could have saved

If I had spoken up

I would hope I never find out

 

 

 

This poem is about: 
Me
My family

Comments

Need to talk?

If you ever need help or support, we trust CrisisTextline.org for people dealing with depression. Text HOME to 741741