339. Pick Me Up:
I needed a pick me up.
My first reaction was always to reach for a can of alcohol; alcohol that was always in my fridge.
I opened the door to find nothing.
Where had it all gone?
“Ah, you drank it, remember sis?” my younger sibling said from the door. She’d answered a question that hadn’t even been spoken. She was good like that.
“Yeah, I remember,” I replied. “I said I was going to finish that last can and then that was it.”
I had made the promise half drunk. I had decided it was about time to get my life back. I couldn’t keep playing the victim. Then I would be as bad as him.
Being raped wasn’t something you just got over easily.
Being raped by a now ex-boyfriend was even worse. They were supposed to be someone you loved and could trust.
I guess I had learned that it’s often the ones closest to us that hurt us the most.
I wanted to kill him. Even better, I wants him to die. If he died I could forget more easily. I thought drinking would help me forget, but it only numbed the pain temporarily.
I guess more than anything I wanted two things: 1. For him to admit he had raped me and say sorry and 2. I wanted to make him pay. I wanted to take him down and destroy him.
But I knew that all I had to do was sit back and let karma do her thing. When she was finished with him he would be a shell of a man.
And that’s what a rapist deserved.