In light of recent events in Hollywood regarding survivors of abuse calling out their perpetrators, the relentless protest against sexual assault and abuse has intensified tremendously.
Just the other day, I talked to a small group of young women at a volunteer booth for abuse victims who had either been in an abusive relationship, or had been sexually assaulted. All their stories were shared with tears and breaking voices, and it’s truly a wonder that they have the determination to stay strong and offer support for those who need it.
This is a little something for each and every one of them… and you.
WARNING: Contents contain descriptions of sexual assault & abuse
I’m sorry his lies left you breathless and I couldn’t help but watch you struggle for air
I’m sorry he took away so much more than you were willing to give that you vowed to never again lay yourself bare
I’m sorry for the all the bruises inside, a map of storms from the first time he laid his calloused hands on you
I’m sorry you believed him when he said he would take care of you, something a villain would say before they aim their gun to shoot
I’m sorry your trust was broken, raining down around you in shattered pieces like a scene from The Glass Menagerie
I’m sorry every time you heard his name you were sucked into a black hole and nobody saw you reaching out, nobody heard you scream
I’m sorry you were alone when you lost your voice and clothes, the pain so blinding you left trails of blood on the sheets from broken nails because you held on so tight.
I’m sorry he left you unhinged and terrified, your wide eyes expecting and accepting the worst like that of a deer in the angry glare of headlights.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there to fight with you and take the blows from him, and her, and all the others who saw you as nothing more than another notch under their belts.
I’m sorry I wasn’t there. I wasn’t there to help you get home. I wasn’t there to clean the gravel that dug into your knees because you were in so much pain you couldn’t take a step without stumbling. I wasn’t there to guide you to safety when the path you took was a white blur because you couldn’t stop crying. I wasn’t there to hold your hair away from your face when you were in the toilet retching nothing but bile and disgust.
I’m sorry there are people who don’t believe a word you say. People who scorn, ridicule and dismiss your pain.
Your pain is real. You are not expected to “just get over it”. You are immensely brave for being the voice for the countless number of tortured souls who cannot bring themselves to whisper their secrets. For battling the demons in your head and the demons in other people all while mending the resurfaced pieces of yourself you thought he had taken.
He hasn’t taken anything away from you. He never can, and he never will.
I wasn’t there to tell you it wasn’t your fault, but I’ll tell you this now:
Everything happened because of him. And just like how he paid for your drinks in that bar a few years back, this one’s on him.
Santini Priya 