Tempered With

I was drawn to the documentary on rape on the telly the other day. It talked about how a girl was lead, naively, into thinking her boyfriend had her best interest in mind before raping her senseless.

I have some empathy...maybe. The documentary droned on about how the girl now lives in a whirlwind of self-hatred, shame and anger and how suicide started mixing in with this unhealthy concoction. There was no mention of the boy, not surprisingly, because he was in jail.

I switched the television off upon realising it was 3am and that I have work the next day. The flat was quiet (I live on my own) - the only sounds were the drip drop of the broken tap I have yet to fix. Apart from that, the silence reminded me that I am alone. I retired to bed shortly after, and set my alarm clock for 6am (it's now 3.15am). One hour later, I was still lying there, eyes wide open. I was thinking about the girl on the telly and how she got herself into that situation, but I was also wondering what was the situation.

I became uncomfortable with that thought and began writhing under the duvet as if in pain; well, I was in pain - emotional pain. I began to see different scenarios in my head: non-consented sex, molestation - maybe alcohol was involved?

I pulled the duvet over my head and tried to stifle out the images in my head. They kept coming back and I hated it.

The alarm rang and I was still under the duvet, hiding - hiding as if someone was out to get me. I was relieved to hear the alarm go because it signalled that real life was starting again and I could now let go of the horrible recurring images in my head and the imagined unpleasant sensations. I turned the alarm off and pulled myself out from under the covers. The day started again and I was so glad it did as I got out of bed and cleared all the nastiness out of myself.