The Aftermath Of Attempted Rape

I saw you yesterday. I didn’t know that you’d moved to Brazil, and I know that your eyes were brown, not green. But I saw you yesterday, as I was walking to class. And I went and hid in the supermarket.


“You were yelling in your sleep last night…”

“Agh, sorry. Did I keep you up?”

“Do you want to know what you were saying?”


“I’ll only tell you if you want to know…”

“Well now you have to tell me.”

“Umm…well, it sounded like you were with, you know, him…”


“I’m sorry, but I don’t really see what the big deal is. I mean it wasn’t technically rape.” 


“Do you want meds?”


“Okay, well we’ll see if it gets better by next week.”


“I wanted to crawl into bed but you were already asleep. I didn’t want you to think it was him.”


“It isn’t your fault.”

“I know, but…”

“No. It. Isn’t.”

“But I…”



(3:45 AM. Door slams open, flourescent light flips on)


“Who is screaming!?”

“What do you mean who is screaming!? YOU’RE screaming! Is there someone here!?”

“I’m sorry…I didn’t know…”

(realizes heart is beating 150 BPM)


“But wait, what kind of outfit were you wearing?”


“I’m sorry, I didn’t know it was affecting you this much.”

“I didn’t either.” 


“Are you positive that is what he was trying to do? He says he wasn’t.”


Some guy just grabbed me in a crowded soccer stadium. My skin felt your calloused, bruising fingers and I looked away from my new friends as I contemplated whether or not I could blame my pooling eyes on allergies. I told them that I’m severely claustrophobic. I don’t like lies, but I also don’t like the truth. 


“Those Brazilian men, hey? You’d better be taking advantage enough for the both of us. How many have there been?”

“There haven’t really been…any…”

“Lame. You only live once, you know that, right?”


“Last week I asked you to try and write down your nightmares as soon you woke up from them. Even just a few notes. What did you come up with?”

(opens iPhone notepad)

“‘Raped I’m

New Haven. cash. tons of coke in my drink, wanted to film something me on the beach, same scary guys’

My syntax is just beautiful when I’m 1/6th awake, right?”


“Really? That sucks. You should probably be more careful.”


I saw you last night at the Diplo concert. When I felt your arm slip around me from behind I looked down and saw that you’d had your hand tattoo removed. Have you grown a few inches recently?


“I’m sorry I’ve been so short about what’s been going on with me, but I promise that it isn’t that I didn’t want to talk to you about it but more that I just couldn’t talk to myself about it. I don’t know that I can now, but I’ll try. So, this is what’s been going on with me.”

Author’s note: April is Sexual Assault Awareness Month. It’s time to talk about it. TC Mark

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