cadavre

I'm not sure that I've ever said this in a blog, but I know a few of my very dear friends on here know.

4 years ago, on Superbowl Sunday, I put naive trust into a friend of a friend while chatting online with them. I didn't want to stay on the computer, but was enjoying our conversation, so I gave him the house phone number. Instead of calling, an hour later, he showed up at my parents' house, where I was alone cleaning.

You don't need to hear the whole story, and I can't stop shaking long enough or bring myself to write it all out.

All you need to know is that as hard as I try to overcome it, Superbowl Sunday is cemented in my brain as the day I was raped. I hid it from my family for 10 months, but a few close friends knew and were there for me, especially Dami, who had actually come to the house and scared the guy away and stayed with me. I didn't report it until 10 months later and because I waited so long, they were unable to do anything.

The flashbacks are haunting me, and I'm left all day to my own thoughts. Usually it doesn't affect my daily routine much...but this week, and with the hormones, I feel useless.