An ugly word

Rape. It's an ugly word... disturbing, infuriating, devastating. It claws at you, every minute, every second. Even when it's long over, years have passed, eternities even, every detail haunts you. What could I have done different. What if I'd dressed different, acted different, said something else, used a different word. It's a word that isn't spoken in decent company. When uttered even in the most private of moments.. it is hushed, a secret held close to the heart. The mere sound of the word can bring back every place he ever touched you, felt you, every motion he ever made. From the way you breathed to whether you understood what was even happening. The violence that the act evokes is not in the action itself, but in knowing that you are nothing more than an object. The scars it leaves are far more than the ones on the surface. Much more than the bruises on your body, much more than the hurt you feel on surface. The knowledge that you are not safe, you do not belong to yourself or that you have no power. The utter helplessness of the moment he lay on top of you, the knowledge that even with all your strength you could not fight him. No amount of telling yourself that it wasn't your fault will ever change the fact that it happened. Especially when the one who did it is someone you trusted with your life. There's no cure for rape, there isn't likely to be one, not for all those who suffer under the guise of "war", not for those who fight battles everyday at home. It's easy to blame the drink, the circumstance, the conditions on the ground... but its hard to take responsibility for it. Hard to own up and say that what you did was wrong, hard to believe that you could be that person. And harder yet to believe that it happened to you. Sometimes you just need to hold on to something, or you'd be swept away by the force of your own despondency. It is impossible to look at rape up close and be unaffected by it. It will change you. Forever.