Pant. Did he know the meaning of the word consent? Pant, pant, pant. She laid there motionlessly. She thought she’d been ready to take on the world - but then she had never anticipated this to be part of it.
A low groan, and he was out, a big smirk plastered across his face as if he’d just done something great. Almost languidly, Patrick laid himself along her and went to sleep.
She still didn’t move.
They were friends. Or had been, more accurately. She’d said no so many times, but he had still pressed on. That wasn’t what friends did, was it? Maybe it was. Did she give any sort of hint that secretly, she’d wanted it after all?
She shifted, sat up, eyed him. She got dressed and left.
He slept, satisfied.
She went home and took a shower, her mind blank. A few missed calls from her mom, but she didn’t return them.
Was she to go to the police? She hadn’t actively fought him. She had said no. She’d probably flirted with him - in his opinion or hers?
Either way, she knew how the system worked. The judicial system or the patriarchy? He wouldn’t be blamed. She would be. She would be the one to carry around all the weight of what’d just happened.
He’d only lose a friend.
A great one, she told herself. Consoling yourself is the first step to getting better - her psychologist used to say this.
Should she go back to him?
No, she was better now, she reassured herself. Traumatic events didn’t bother her anymore. She had learned how to process and how to forget. Not forget - forgetting is what unhealthy people do. She wasn’t unhealthy, not anymore.
She would just never feel justice.
He, on the bright side, would never feel pain. He would just have a new story to tell.
She would never feel safe again.
She shook her head and took a deep breath, forcing on a smile. A new day, a new start, a new traumatic - no, stop there. Her smile momentarily faltered, but then it was back again.
She exited her house and - bravely, her mind added, though she begged to disagree - made her way through her usual day.
She would be fine. She will be fine. She is fine, she tells herself. She will just never feel safe again.
Sublimity
I wish I could get you out of my head but I
Don’t know who you are.
Are you?
Who are you?
You seem so close
Where are you?
I can almost touch you
Are you at all?
But then why do I remember you?
Do I remember you? Had I found you?
Or was it just a ghost of what I could have remembered
Are you?
Did I see you?
You seemed so close
I must have seen you
I could almost taste you
You must have been nothing but
A mere ghost
###
Will I ever get you out of my head?
I will remember everything a little better,
With each passing day.
You are close
You are getting closer.
I know you are
I can almost feel you.
You should be here soon.
Would you please hurry up?
I think I’m missing you.
But if I saw you, would I know it was you?
Or would I simply think that you are -
Just another ghost.
###
I still can’t get you out of my head.
You will remain and linger there,
Just out of reach.
It’s okay.
I know you are here.
I know you are close.
I know that you are not going anywhere.
Maybe I will just have to go and find you
Maybe then I will gain some peace.
But I will never doubt that you are,
More than a ghost.
