I'm almost certain you'll remember who I am. It must be hard to forget.
I had that dream again last night. The one where we're in your car and it's pouring down with rain and you have me pinned down with the doors locked. You don't let me out until I either agree to touch you or let you touch me. Yet you take my definite, pleading 'no' as a definite, passionate 'yes'. I’m trying to push you away, fearing what you might do but my efforts are hopeless. I wake up every time, breathless, shaking and covered in claw marks. This morning I woke up hysterical, I stared at walls all day and hardly ate because all I could feel when I swallowed was your hand around my throat.
I wish you were there that night I told my mum what you did. Because apparently things like this don't happen to smart girls like me, girls like me don't get touched by boys they aren't in a relationship with. I’ve always been told this doesn’t happen to girls who get A’s and want to go to university. So why did this happen to me? Where did I go wrong? What mistake did I make? I wish you could have seen how much I screamed and begged her for help because the flashbacks and nightmares were too much, the sight of black cars in town drove me insane and the thought of trusting anyone again was futile. I try so hard to let people in, but as soon as they get close I expel their love in effort to feel better about myself knowing I prevent a what if it happened again scenario. I wish you knew that I only lost my virginity because I thought that if I didn't say yes, he'd have taken it anyway. That's what you'd have done to me.
Often, I wonder how you'd feel if you realised you were an abuser. Part of me understands you just saw a mist of pheromones and took what you could get without comprehending the true meaning of your actions. I also realise that the chances of you reading this are slim, but for once I’m not letting you silence me. I refuse to let your threats hush my plea for recognition and acceptance.
I don't have much else to say to you, nothing I can fathom into an intelligible set of words anyway so I'll round off now... I just want you to know how much tougher you’ve made me. And how, despite everything I refrained from writing because it sickens me more than I can grasp, you don’t have control over me anymore. I am successful and happy and courageous, and you’re nothing. You are worthless and one day you’ll recognize what you’ve done, and I hope it destroys you. I hope that you aren’t the parent of a child that this happens to, because the pain it brings is unimaginable. I hope you think of that night every day for the rest of your god forsaken life.