♥

All I can do is watch as the palm of his left hand presses up roughly against your breast, the tips of his fingers rubbing the erect nipple that has been placed there. Your body trembles in spite of itself and his hand darts out from where it has rested at his side, slamming into the wall just inches away from your ear. He will put you back in your place, don’t you worry. Startled, you can not help but show your fear by twisting your neck sharply away from his face and allowing your knees to buckle beneath you. The floor falls out from under me as his body towers over you, the curve of his spine defined by shadows that cling desperatly to skin and bone.  Mascara is smeared down your cheeks, painting your face in ashes, and the skin on your upper lip is decorated in beads of blood from where his teeth broke through. For a second your eyes lock with mine, begging me please. But I can not save you, and you are lost under the toxication of violation,  You slip through my hands.

This is the best way I can find to describe the re-occuring dream from the past two nights. There is no real way to put into words how trapped something like this makes me feel, and how terrified I am to return to a situation such as this even in a state of slumber. If I can’t handle rape in a city of illusion, how will I ever cope with my year of experience with it? Things like this make me want to forget.

Yesterday I was in the worst state of physical condition I have experienced yet. I took three naps, unable to stay awake. I was mostly bed ridden due to a severe headache, falling over from fatigue every time I got up, and increased heart rate that made it hard to breathe. I know this should scare me, and it does, but I refuse to stop.