Hey. How have you been? I often wonder what you’re doing nowadays. Whether you ever think back to that night. Do you feel any guilt? Do you know it was wrong? Do you ever think of me? Think of how I am? Think of what it did to me? Does that night play over and over in your head and drive you to insanity? It does for me.
You broke me that night. You turned my whole world upside down. I trusted you. You were a friend, yet I found myself pinned to an empty floor at 6am with your body on top of mine. There was no way to escape.
You waited. You waited and waited until I fell asleep and you could live out your premeditated attack. I waited. I waited and waited until the nightmare was over and I could untangle my body from underneath yours.
Your hands. All over me. Grabbing my thighs, clutching onto my skin, surrounding my neck. I swear I’ve never felt at ease with another man’s touch since.
I fell asleep next to a friend and awoken to someone I could not recognize.
You were sweet, you were kind, you were my friend. We had spent the night joking and drinking with all our other friends. Friends. What a strange word. Does that word mean anything at all? My guard has not come down since that night. That night. Near 4 years ago now. I can’t let it go. I can’t ever let it go.
Did it make you feel big? What exactly did you gain from it? I have tried to understand. Tried to see it from your view. Maybe you didn’t mean it, maybe it was just the drink and the drugs. The question of who to blame has circled my head every day since was it me? Did I lead you on? Did I look at you in the wrong way? Was my friendly composure taken for advantage?
I remember your touch so aggressive and tight, your breath, heavy on my neck. You were murmuring in my ear and I tried, I tried to scream, I tried to push, I tried to get myself out. But I was frozen. Near a statue under your grip. What happened to my voice? Had you silenced me forever? Instead, I lay crying, trying to pull your hands from me as you pinned them to the floor.
I took one last glance at your face as I got to the door. I was trying to find any trace of being left inside you. To seek out the love and kindness you once showed. Trying to convince myself this was just a huge mistake.
I remember you glaring at me as you started to laugh. What had happened to you? Your hands had been exchanged for claws. Your kindness for evil. I left my shoes in that room and refused to turn back. I hadn’t dared go back in there. See that couch. See those curtains. See the crack in the ceiling I had been staring at for the last 30 minutes through burning eyes. I often think back to it. The crack. Has anyone covered it up? Plastered over it as if it had never been there? Or is it still there? Growing bigger as the months pass, slowly waiting for the ceiling to concave.
That crack in the ceiling is the only way to explain how I’ve felt since that night. Weak and broken. Waiting for the pain to go, for the cracks to stop spreading. Waiting for my standstill. My final call.
You wrote me a letter that night, explaining how much of a beautiful person I was and how I should be more open to people. You labeled me a ‘clam’ and expressed your need to see the pearl inside me. I read that letter every damn day, every damn day I remind myself of how you broke me, how I trusted you and you did your worst. You’ve transformed me into a person of hate. The kindness of strangers is a thing of the past, hell, the kindness of friends is now a thing of the past to me.
I need you to know the effect you’ve had on me.
You’re the reason I flinch whenever my boyfriend kisses me. You’re the reason I lay awake every night until I see daylight and deem it safe to close my eyes. In daylight I can’t see the shadows of your hands all over me, in daylight I can’t hear your panting in my ear. In daylight I can live; I can finally breathe. However nighttime is never far off, and the horrors and nightmares of that night begin again.
My boyfriend is so pure and beautiful yet I can’t let him touch me or present me with compliments. I can’t open myself up to him, I can’t let him have me. I can’t let anyone have me. Because of you. You’re the reason I can only make love to him if I’ve had two bottles of wine. You’re the reason he believes I don’t love him. You’ve destroyed my everything.
I’ve read that time heals everything. Yet it’s four years later and the effects are more prominent than ever. I am trying to work on myself and forget the pain of that night. I remember getting back to my house and cradling my body on the shower floor, scrubbing your scent from me. I showered near five times a day for a year. All I could feel was dirt, all over me, I felt unclean, no longer pure.
I’ve hated my body ever since that night, cutting open my skin, burning my wrists. My body reminds me of my weakness, it reminds me of the power you had over me.
I long to love and trust people but it’s an emotion I haven’t since bared to risk. I want so bad to let people in, to feel love and give love. I have so much to give. However, my first step to doing so is starting with you. I must forgive you to let go of all the anger and pain left inside of me. This letter is to let you know yes you ruined me, you near killed me with just a half hour of your time but I’m no longer going to let you have power over my life. You will ruin me no more. This is over. It’s time I let that night go.
It’s time I let you go.