Her Unknown Story

***The following contains sensitive material such as rape, trauma and abuse, please read with caution.***

Social media, such as instagram, twitter, tumblr, and snapchat once a diary to my well known friend became a place she wanted to avoid. The girl who blogged and inspired, while spilling out her guts to anxious and loyal readers, became the girl who posted once a week on tumblr. The girl who snapped a picture of her favorite part from a novel, then shared it on instagram with a quite informative and descriptive opinion every once a while, now became absent. The girl who shared her best and happiest moments with us every weekend became a text poster only consisting of heartbroken emojis and texts that read "No one knows." 

What did she know that broke her up this much that we didn't? She'd been down and absent for months until Friday at 2:07 am. Her blog notified me that she posted a text titled; "When He Followed Me On Snapchat" He? There was no he posted on her instagram, twitter, tumblr, or twitter, so her readers including myself were confused, which forced us to read on. 

Reading on broke us, comments that read "stay strong,”"we love you,” or "report him" flooded the comment section. All her readers spoke, except me, I didn't say a word. The girl that had been absent had spoke, she had told a story we weren't expecting but needed to read. This is her story;

On May 1st, she'd taken her annual trip to her hometown, where her favorite restaurant as a kid was located. There was a boy at the end of the counter who couldn't keep his eyes off her, and she was hesitant to look away as well. She wondered if he would speak to her before she left, but when her food was up, he still hadn't spoke a word, so she began to grow tired and walked off. “Why didn't he speak to me?” She thought as she made her way back to her car. 

That night she started to write her review on a novel she'd been asked to read, when she received a message on snapchat from "Swervo.ILBS". She opened it, not expecting much but a homeboy "holla,” but the message was from the boy at the end of the counter at the restaurant. "Hey, I think you're beautiful and I've been following you for a while, seeing you in person left me starstruck. I'm sorry I didn't speak, but I was the weirdo at the restaurant." Knowing he actually reached out to her, her face lit up and her smile grew big, forgetting the review she was working on, she stayed up all night texting him. 

His name was Jesus, and he too liked writing. A boy that seems perfect so far had her head over heels and she wasn't ashamed. Jesus insisted they met up so he could finally speak to her in person and she obliged. He instructed her to be ready by nine pm and to dress classy but casual, he didn't tell her where they were going because it was a surprise. She didn't like surprises. Why did she accept this? When he arrived at her family friend's house, he smiled at her sending her mind back into a "honeymoon phase spell.” 

That night they laughed, cried, and shared things with each other they wouldn't tell a friend they'd known for years. What made them so special to each other? He implied that the night was going too well to end, who would say no to confiding in someone who accepted and took you for who you were? No one. 

She wasn't nervous to take her coat off and didn't hesitate to take her shoes off. She plopped down on his comfortable bed, which she thought was so comfortable she almost went to sleep three times while laying on it in a span of an hour. 

He kissed her and she kissed him back, he lifted her arms to put them behind his neck, as if he were the lead in the creation of a love song that had to be heard by the world. He gently slid his hand down her pants and she broke from the kiss removing his hand. "I can't do this, I'm not ready." She said as she started to get up, but this made him stronger. This made his eyes loose the soft brown shaft it had to it, his hands didn't move as gentle as before, and she began to squirm and constantly say stop, but he went deaf maybe? Did he suddenly pick up a different language and forget english? He didn't have a problem inviting himself to take away the one thing she had left to cling onto, to assure her she had control over her body. He went on for hours and her tears made a pond on her neck as she continued to fight for all of the hours he let himself into her. When he grew tired she lied on his bed until the morning came because it was so damn comfortable. The bed was comfortable and she just needed to sleep. She couldn't move, even if she wanted to, because her heart had broken off into each of her limbs ejecting a paralyzing poison she had no will to fight. He kissed her on her cheek and asked if she wanted to go home to freshen up and hang out. Did he realize what he had done? Did he realize he had took advantage of her? She nodded her head yes, only to go home and cry in the shower as her phone rang informing her that he was still trying to reach her. 

Her discourse soon turned to anger and she began yelling, hitting the walls that surrounded her, and throwing her phone: shattering it. She ended up curled up in the corner of her bathroom unclothed, and the water rolling down her arms and back reminded her of his touch. She wondered to herself how she could be so stupid to let him in. I wanted so badly to tell her she wasn't stupid, she wasn't in the least bit. 

Weeks passed and I noticed her change in appearance, attitude, and writing,  or at least the lack of. No one knew she had endured something so traumatic. Her teachers claimed she became lazy, her job called her a slacker, and she told herself she wasn't meant for the future she had planned out. The fire she had was blown out, but not for long. 

She met an art student and teacher who shared her pain through her painting and drawings. One of her paintings was of a girl in a corner in a bathroom unclothed with water dripping off her, it was titled "Recanting My Remorse,” and the writer had never been so connected to a piece of art, then the art student came over to take in the painting next to her. "I was fourteen." the artist said. "I know i don't need to explain what happened because I'm sure you're smart enough to figure it out, but I still wish to this day I started living again much earlier than a year ago." She said as she walked away. The writer's eyes filled with tears, as she walked off and started her text titled "Start Living Now." The text that started the uproar, the text that showed that Alexis was back and she was ready to start living.