It’s Dark Down Here, Alice.

Why is it so wrong to want change in a world that is constantly screaming for us to be that generation that makes a difference? They expect so much from us. Want so much from us. Except when it comes to actually screaming back, then we are rebellious.

They like us better silenced.

There’s only two days left in this godforsaken year of 2017 and I for one can’t wait for the freak show to end. On a previous post I said I should have never climbed into that back seat, I still feel that way, but ever since that my life has been one face plant after another.

No matter how hard I fought back or clawed my way out to finally be able to stand back up, the ground would crumble again. Each time I would cry a little harder and sleep a little less, my depression was slowly killing me and people automatically thought drugs but no. Drugs would have numbed me, relieved the pain but I couldn’t. I felt every painful second of this abysmal year.

It started with the rape. That word. No one likes that word. I usually say I was assaulted or sexually assaulted but that was the first time I said the actual word, well typed it. You know what I mean.

When I went to the police I understood why 80% of rape victims do the opposite, they stay silent. Only 20% actually ever go seek the help of law enforcement. As I am sitting there recounting every horrible second of that morning out loud, it was 4:05 a.m. when he finished, the investigator was apathetically writing away on his notepad.

The investigator never asked me if I was okay, he only asked me two questions. When I was done replaying that morning, I use that word hatefully because the only emotion the investigator displayed was the part where me being a victim made his microscopic man parts stand at attention, for him he asked me if “he came in me”. The second question was immediately after that when he asked me to proofread his report on what I was “claiming” so he said.

Alleging“, they always say that when someone has the strength to seek justice for what has been taken from them. It is never fully focused on justice for the victim. It’s always a victim has “allegedly” been raped and the focus is finding a way of proving the perpetrator’s not guilty. The victims are made out to be the guilty ones and the rapists become the victims. How dare a woman speak out and seek justice, apparently you’re not really supposed to listen to those help advertisements or believe that you’re entitled to saying who or what can enter your vagina, silly me (if you don’t sense the sarcasm in that then please take the nearest exit).

I have been called dumb for reporting it. I also have been asked why I waited to do so, I didn’t want people to act the exact way they have towards me. I have been harassed and slut shamed. I lost my job and had to withdrawal from school because of that sociopathic asshole. I have been told by law enforcement and a number of lawyers that our justice system does not give a fuck about rape victims. I was even told that if I only had more money I could get the justice I deserved. Guess my pussy doesn’t sit high enough on the social ladder to deserve justice.

Only one person in law enforcement exhibited empathy when he acknowledged the lack of justice there is for rape victims. He has become a valuable friend to me even though we have never met face-to-face. My other friends can’t talk about this, they can’t relate or don’t want to hear about it, it’s too depressing for them. I don’t recall how our friendship started but I am thankful for it, more than I can ever express.

The nightmares haunt me. Every time I sleep I’m facedown on his mattress again looking at that clock until it hits 4:05. I stay awake so my kids don’t hear me crying for help in my sleep. I don’t stay at anyone’s house because I’ve had people wake me up in a panic, they didn’t know what was wrong, I would be crying and screaming for help but stuck in my nightmare the whole time unable to wake up.

So I don’t sleep and my friend in law enforcement works third shift, maybe that’s why we get along, all the late night talks and games through text messaging help us both stay awake. He is there at night, his name on my phone, when I need it the most. He lets me know I’m not alone. He tells me to seek justice, to make a change, a difference yet he is the ONLY one.

Why is it treated like such a crime to want justice for rape victims? It’s treated like to talk about it, like it’s worse than the actual crime that was commited.

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