Stories of Hope

Rape Cuts from the Inside

Virginity painfully stolen in a shady room, my body lying still on the floor, I was 19, he was supposed to be my friend. Nobody believed me, they said I was overreacting. I remember the blood, the pain, the inability to cope with my feelings. It didn't seem me but rather someone else the one who'd been raped. I felt numb and guilty and worthless so drove a knife across my arms. It reminded me the pain I'd felt was not a lie. I did it for months, hiding my scars, confusing them with those HE had left me. Then I just quit, I decided not to live with the sorrow he had given me. I decided that he must not hurt me anymore, you know guys, you think it was my hand to wound...I think it was his.