I didn't want to open my eyes. The sight of him made me sick. I hated his short, hairy legs. I hated his eyes. They looked at me with sadness, but sadness couldn't hide the evil that stared at me. I hated the way they looked hollow and dark when he took his glasses off. I hated his beard. It scratched my skin when he tried to kiss me. And when he thrusted his lips at mine, hoping i wouldn't run.

I hated his hands the most. His hands radiated with his disgusting desire. Every time he touched me, from the day we first met, i knew something was wrong. Maybe i was just being too "closed off". Thats what my dad always said when i didn't let him hug me. When he touched me, i could see his hands for what they really were. Slimy tentacles, lusting for their prey.

I should have seen it coming, the things his hands did. They hit me. I saw stars and my ears rang. They scratched me. The marks would be there for days. They gripped my throat so tight i could feel my life slipping away as my vision went dark. He released just before i passed out, letting me breathe.

Sometimes i wish he had kept choking me. I wished he had killed me that day, putting an end to my torture.

All the pain and lack of oxygen made me weak. Too weak to try to fight. He was bigger and stronger. And i was just a battered little girl, terrified and trapped. I couldn't get away. And who would hear me if i screamed? We were alone and i was pretty sure he'd keep hurting me if i tried. He restricted my breathing every time i made a sound.

So i just laid there. I closed my eyes, pretending i was dead. I waited for it to be over, trying to **** my mind. I didn't want to feel a thing. I didn't want to be there. If i could somehow slip into death in my head, i wouldn't have to be here anymore. Killing myself in my head was the only escape from my terrible reality.

It was over and he drove me home. He tried to talk to me. He tried to reassure me that everything was okay and i wasn't a bad person.
"Don't feel guilty, he doesn't have to know." He kept talking but i was silent. In an emotionless trance, my face was still and unexpressive. Tears came slowly and silently. They rolled down my stone cheeks, my statue of a face.

What just happened? Did he forget the events of the last hour? Did I?
"Don't feel guilty. He won't know."
Had i just cheated on my boyfriend? What have i done?

He made me think that i was the one to blame. I'm a ****. *****. Disgusting cheater. What did i do? I hate myself. I deserve to die.

I knew the truth. I knew what happened. I knew what he did and i knew how horrible it felt. So how was he able to convince me that this was my fault? Was it because i didn't want to think about that word? ****.

No, i had not been *****. I cheated and I'm a horrible person. He means the world to me and i am a horrible ****. That's what i told myself. And didn't tell anyone else anything about cheating or ****. It's a terrifying word. Once the reality is seen.

I'm thinking about you
And how we were in
Very similar shoes.

I'm thinking about your smile
And your hair
That I always envied.
It's so strange to know
That I'll never walk behind you again.

I'm thinking about the way your absence
Turned our hometown upside down
And inside out.

I'm thinking about the portrait
Your brother just drew of me
And comparing it to the portrait
Anonymous painted for your mom.

Thinking about the guilt
That I somehow still carry.
Even after knowing the truth
And knowing what happened to you.

The weight of knowing
It could have been me,
But wasn't;
Is so present still.

Why did I make it out alive
When you had so much more to live for?

I'm so sorry
That this happened to you
And I'm so sorry that i couldn't do anything to save you.

Some nights are fine.
But some nights,
Your face is all I can see
When I close my eyes.

You said that day
Haunts you,
But do you lose sleep
Like I do?

How many consecutive days
Have you stayed inside
Because you were too terrified
To go anywhere on your own?

When you walk to class,
Do you keep your head down
And your eyes on your feet
In fear that I might show up?

Do you need four million volts
In your bag at all times
Just to feel something close
To safe?

Do you cringe
When you think of me?
Do you still feel me
In your grips?

Did you find someone
To care about you?
Someone you care about too?
Can you ******* tears
When they kiss you?
Does it leave a guilty taste
On your lips
The way you left bruises on my hips?

When you hold them close
Are you reminded of the way
You held me throat?

Does your skin crawl
When they touch you,
Because no matter how close
You're dying to be
How loved you want to feel
You can't get rid of the memory of me?

No. Of course not.
You're not haunted.
You don't know what it's like
To have the ghost of someone
Who stole your sense of self
Live inside your mouth.
You don't know
What you did,
And I don't think you ever will.
But I hope one day
Someone makes you feel as small
As you made me feel.

It'll be two years soon.
Two years,
Five psychiatric medications,
Six relapses,
20 pounds lost and gained,
And lost again,
And one suicide attempt.

And now I'm here,
Still trying to wash your fingerprints
Off of my bruised skin.
Trying to forget your voice
And the feeling of your grip
On my wrists and throat.

Two years later
And I still can't bring myself
To say the word out loud.
The R word.
Two years later and I still
Tell myself
"You idiot, you should have known."

Two years later
And every time I pass your house
On the way to see my psychiatrist
I have half a mind
To burn it to the ground.
To throw rocks in your windows.
To slash the tires
On your red jeep.

Maybe by next year
I'll stop seeing you in my dreams.
I'll stop feeling your hands
All over me.
I'll stop hearing
Your voice breaking through tears
Telling me you love me.

Maybe by next year
The scars from when
I locked myself in your bathroom
And tore myself apart
Will fade completely.
Maybe by next year
I'll actually be able
To say the word "****".

I saw that girl
That looks like you
The other day.

The one that was a freshman
When we were seniors.
The one who made me catch my breath
When I passed her in the hall.
Because I saw your face
In hers.

I would think
Always for a second
"Oh my god Alex!".
And remember that
It's not you.

I saw her last week
When I went out to dinner
With my parents.
And there you were
In my mind all night.

I'm telling you this
Because I never got to tell you
While you were still here
That you and I
Had much more in common
Than I ever thought.

I felt that pain too,
Yanno the kind of
Nausea and heartache
Of having your sense of self
Burned to ashes
In a few minutes.

I wish I could have
Told you
That I was in pain too
And that if we could
Hold on for one day at a time
We'll be okay

Two years tomorrow,
Alex.
God knows we all wish
We could have saved you,
But I think you saved me.

My heart betrayed my mind
When it paralyzed me.
When I climbed into your bed
And you did that thing you always did.
When you fell asleep like you’d never really been awake,
You turned your back to me
And in your dreaming
Cut all the strings I’ve been trying to tie to you.

My heart betrayed my mind
When it paralyzed me.
When rather than getting up
And taking my knots with me,
It kept me there in your bed.
It kept me still as silent tears
Soaked your pillow and sheets.

My heart betrayed me every night,
Every time I let you touch me
With lust and with violence.
Every time I let you call me what you called me
And strangle me with your pieced together
Patchwork words.

Even when I left you,
My heart betrayed me when it made me say
I’m Sorry.

I don’t expect to be understood
But I don’t feel like I ever woke up this morning.
I’m stuck in a nightmare
With your hands on my wrists.

And I’m reminded that if bruises could scar
My body would be a technicolor collage of red and blue and purple and yellow.

It makes me sick
How I have to get close to keep my distance.
I have to follow you to make sure our paths don’t intersect.
I need to know what you’re doing and where
Just to keep you there and not here.

The realization stings.
The recalling of my place in this world
Knocks me to the ground
And spits in my face.
It’s icy breath freezes me where I lay.

I remain still as they close in around me,
My friends.
My friends with strong arms,
Deep whispering voices,
Groping hands,
And free drinks.

They make me laugh,
They coax stories out of my mouth
To make room for themselves.
They bait my trust with jokes and gifts.
And once they capture my confidence,
They reach for my body.

But I swear my lips are bitter,
My hair is a thicket of thorns,
And my skin is made of broken glass.
Of course this is a lie.
A lie I wish I could squeeze reality out of.

And so I squeeze anyway
But the truth that flows with ease
Cuts me with joyous violence.
It fills me with poison
And drags my delirious body into its bed
Where it smacks me until my eyes light up with stars.
It strangles me until consciousness begins to slip away.

But ******* a dead girl isn’t as fun
As it sounds.
So he lets me breathe just enough
To let an apology form out of my bruised throat.

And when the truth is done
He’ll leave me out to bleed.
Out in the open for his friends to take a turn.

And they’ll do it again and again and again.
In the back of the art room in a middle school,
In the general admission section of a metal show,
In their twin bed,
In mine,
In the back of a car parked in a field,
At work,
In the bathroom at my friend’s house.

They’ll do it again and again and again