Bent over a sink fistful of my hair, bruise marring my face. "It was consensual," he said. "We had fun," he said. Fingers bruised my thigh, gripping me tight so I couldn't move. Tears falling into the sink as he violated me, took my virginity in the most vile way imaginable. The mirror showed a girl dying on the inside for the sole purpose of some guy getting off- damn the consequences. Didn't tell anyone. Who would believe a loner over the southern gentleman? (he wasn't so gentle) But it happened. And finally I'm able to speak up and speak out against the sexual assaults that plague the media and society as people condemn the victim. "It was her fault." "She should have said something." Nobody believes a victim- the accusation is swept under a rug. But that can't happen if the assailant is in public eye. Everyone can hear it- It can't be swept under the rug anymore. -Don'
Crazy, covered in ink, and bursting of stories to be told. This is my life, the good, the bad, and the crazy.