Six years ago, I ran away. Six years ago, I was just sixteen. Six years ago I was mistreated by a man who was twenty-seven. Six years ago, my parents let him come home with me, just so they could make sure I wouldn’t run away again.Today I am twenty-two. Today I broke free from a secret I’ve been keeping for years. Today I finally told my mother what happened six years ago.All these years have passed, and yet I am still chained by the fears I had when I was sixteen. All these years have passed, and I still don’t remember everything that happened to me. It’s all locked away somewhere in my mind, taunting me on a daily basis. Sometimes the memories are triggered and I get a fragment of one of the horrible events that happened. Sometimes I wake up from nightmares about him coming back and killing me. Sometimes I have nightmares about killing him.Sometimes it is just all too much. His name alone can trigger a panic attack. I could be talking about somebody entirely different, but that name. I just can’t bare hearing it, especially from my own mouth. I shut down entirely if someone tries to talk about abuse or rape.I lost my innocence to him.He lured me in. I was young. I was naive. I fell for his lies. By the time I realized that it was too late. He hit me. He raped me. It got to the point where I just didn’t resist anymore, out of fear that he’d do more than just hurt me. He was careful not to leave bruises. He knew my father would kill him for it. But I knew that if he snapped, he could kill me.After being violated over and over for nine months, he was finally taken away by the RCMP, for unrelated situations. I never told anybody. I kept my mouth shut. I was terrified that he would come back. And he tried. They released him, and a few days later, they found him sitting at the end of somebody’s driveway in a town only thirty minutes from mine.My father paid for a motel room for the night and a bus ticket the next day, just to get him out of the province and away from us.A week later, I found out I was pregnant, and my entire world was shaken and turned around and upside down. I was pregnant because he forced me to drop my birth control pill down the drain every day.Many would probably question why I kept the baby if I went through all of that… If there was the very real possibility that he was conceived through rape. I kept my child because it’s not your business why. I am happy to say that he is growing into a sweet, handsome, sometimes devilish little man. Although it has been difficult, I am happy with the decision I made.I am so damaged… So broken, from what he put me through. The anxiety. The depression. Every day is like walking the tightrope for the first time, with no safety harness or net below to catch me if I fall. And sometimes I do fall. And when I do, as much as I’d love to lay there and let the darkness consume me, I dig and claw my way back up.Running away with someone seemed so romanticized. In movies and in books, girls would run away with their 'soulmates'. How could that not translate to real life? You recently just met them. You feel like they understand; They care. You could get away from all the troubles in your life and start anew, with the one you think you might love.There is nothing romantic about it. It’s reckless. It’s dangerous. It’s scary.Every time I hear about teenage girls going missing, I’m terrified that they’ve gotten into the same situation that I was in. I’m terrified that they met someone like him. I’m terrified that they met him.When I told my mother, her initial reaction was less than comforting. She blamed me. It was my fault. It was my fault because I ran away in the first place. It was my fault because I stayed in that situation, even though I had many opportunities to leave without risk of getting hurt.In a way, what she said is true. But she wasn't victim blaming, I know that. I know my mother and I know her methods of communication are rarely delicate. What she really meant was that if I had gotten out when I had the chance, I wouldn't be experiencing the mental and emotional recoil of being abused. She knows it wasn't truly my fault. I'm not to blame for his actions. I'm not to blame for his unstable mental state. I'm not to blame for his inability to grasp the concept of consent.Although difficult, coming forward was the most liberating thing I have ever done. I thought I would always be alone in this. But so many people are supporting me as I take the next steps in my journey. Every day I am thankful to still be here. I am thankful to have a strong, sweet little man to keep me grounded. And now, I am thankful to have all the love and support I need to get better.
kianamaiart
gummygunk
origamiaround
