I often think that my guardian angel must have been drunk, for they did not do their job properly. During those days, I had laid in bed every night, hurting inside and out. With tears streaming down my face, I tried to muffle the cries with my pillow. I wondered why I was unlovable.

“Stars always burn out at some point.” My new classmate shared the information with me after our first dance class together. His eyes lit up while talking about his passion for astronomy, and I found it amusing. He was a bit older than me, as I was only fourteen and he was seventeen. But, being in my naive, stupid state of infatuation, I ignored all the bright red flags waving in front of my eyes.

He used to drag me to the bathroom, now the place of my nightmares. I didn’t know how to stop him as he was bigger than I was, and I was scared that if I refused, he would harm me even more. All I could do was stare at him blankly as he put his hands all over my body, telling me that he loved and wanted me.

Hearing all the stories about how the victims of abuse are often turned into the bad guys of the story, being told how they “dressed provocatively” and “sent mixed messages”, I kept quiet. When I woke up after having a bad dream, I decided that I had enough of being a proper, good girl.

I talked to adults, but nothing happened. That’s when I realized that no one was going to help me but myself. I started speaking up against him and attempting to physically resist his advances. Fortunately, I found a chance to leave the situation that held me hostage for more than a year. I broke off contact with him and never appeared in his sight again.

What doesn’t kill you gives you a lot of unhealthy coping mechanisms and a dark sense of humor. It also made me bitter, angry, and resentful. He ruined dating boys for me. I hated all males, refusing to believe that they can be any good to society. I wanted him to pay for what he did, and live in my shoes for a day.

Yes, I spoke up and I faced the repercussions for it. I became the “bad girl.” It would be a lie to say that none of it bothered me. I was hurt to the core, and I fell into a downward spiral.
God must have known that I would be too powerful without mental illnesses, so that’s why he gave me those challenges. I’m working on myself to become better and learning to trust again, to believe that I can find other people to rely on. I now believe that there is someone for everyone, and the person for me is a psychiatrist.

Justice doesn’t have to be served in court, and I don’t need to forgive the people who put me in pain to heal. I found my peace in the thought that I could advocate for other victims of abuse through social media, sharing my experiences with others to raise awareness and help others understand the reality of the different forms of abuse.
Four years later, I’m still waiting for karma to hit him like a dump truck. The last time that I heard about him, he was a rising star, shining bright. But, stars always burn out at some point, right?

© Jocelyn. All rights reserved. If you are interested in quoting this story, contact the national team and we can put you in touch with the author’s teacher.