Raped
I am a fucking demon. The other day I got raped. I was performing a perfectly innocent act. I was trying to fill a prescription to help me gradually become part of the world, and I got raped. I’ve spent the last four years of my life in rehab and jail (with very small reprieves in between). After so much time in jail, I was released straight into a rehab. The world is a scary place to me. The only thing I know how to do in this world is get high. All I can relate to are the words of Lil Wayne: “Only once the drugs are gone, I feel like dying.”
Anyone who saw me that day could tell I was defeated. I had been walking for hours because I don’t have a car and I had been turned down at every pharmacy because there is Prozac shortage in Florida. In spite of my personal history, I’m a very innocent looking girl. And I’m still naive (somehow, probably because I’m so stupid). I was standing in the pharmacy and a “nice” older man could tell I was a smoker and overwhelmed.
“Looks like you need a smoke?”
For me, being so distant, so far away from everyone and everything, I find it really heartwarming to be acknowledged.
“The smokes are in my car.”
We are in a tropical climate. It’s hot.
“Let’s get in the car with the cool air conditioning.”
Ah, so relaxing. A break. Finally.
The gentlemen tells me his name but I don’t hear it. I notice the passenger door doesn’t have a handle to open it, but I don’t think twice about it. Then the next thing I know he’s on top of me. I’m locked in. I’m crying and screaming. The defeat oozes through every atom of my being (my body). His car isn’t parked close to any other cars. No one can hear my screams.
A moment that changes everything.
He offers me money if I stop crying.
“I”m not a fucking prostitute!” I say.
His response: “That’s what they all say.”
The world is a bloodcurdling place and I am its bitch.