the virus

becoming i   CHAPTER 5

I nev­er knew why the first who raped me did. I nev­er said a damn thing. I nev­er con­front­ed. I nev­er went to the police. 

It was two whole years un­til I start­ed to come out and re­al­ly say what hap­pened. Still, even then I was alone. Mi­nus one per­son. One friend who gave me the courage to speak up. 

The one per­son in the world I had trust for be­cause they un­der­stood from their own per­spec­tive. I watched her strug­gles co­in­cide with mine but her bat­tle be­ing more pro­found. In which she acted.

Al­though the strug­gles af­ter still ex­ist­ed. Do­ing what the world tells you to do doesn’t heal the wound. Nor does it give back that peace of mind be­cause in so many cas­es, any­one can be­come that per­son once more. 

There is no heal­ing of that wound for sur­vivor or at­tack­er. All we have as an­swer is the pos­si­ble breed­ing grounds called pris­ons that only per­pet­u­ates the di­rec­tion those have trav­eled farther. 

At this to even do this, we still have to be held in front of strangers once more with no es­cape recit­ing off our most vul­ner­a­ble dis­gust­ing sto­ries as they be­gan to ask all the ques­tions we asked ourselves. 

“Why did I go there?”
“What was I wearing?”
“What did I do or say that brought this on?”

All of which only di­rect­ly points the fin­ger of blame at us. As if we didn’t blame our­selves enough. In these cas­es we only have our words and rec­ol­lec­tions un­less the ‘lucky’ few have some sort of ev­i­dence to de­pict what hap­pened is true. 

I’m hap­py I don’t know why he did what he did. I’m hap­py I nev­er said any­thing. I nev­er had to un­der­stand and give no­tion to him that he was hu­man af­ter that. 

I was able to sep­a­rate him from my life. There was no con­nec­tion. And I was able to bury it so deep to not even ac­knowl­edge it for years. 

The only prob­lem is it came back in ways I nev­er knew it would. 

Re­al­iz­ing I hadn’t processed a virus in me for years – one that’s so deep and al­ters my view on every­thing isn’t some­thing that is easy to just have come out. 

I sev­ered that con­nec­tion to that man, but hadn’t re­al­ized it made me con­nect­ed to a part of my­self that had poor bound­aries. Ones that al­lowed an­oth­er to get through and get what they de­sired with­out my consent. 

For this I am unhappy.
 
 

—al­ley scheffki

Flom­mist Al­ley Schef­f­ki is 22 years young, ‘I am the blue rose. Dies ist ein wun­sch für frei­heit.’ Copy­right © 2016 Al­ley Scheffki.

 
co
nti
nue
read
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                   forward to  becoming i  CHAPTER 6  • • •
· · · back to  becoming i  CHAPTER 4

 
start over     al­ley scheffki’s  be­com­ing i  CHAP­TER ONE

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