Sometimes words hurt. Most of the time silence hurts too.
You gave me up so easily.
A scared thirteen year old child, I spoke the truth with a shaky voice. You bullied me into silence.
With that came your silence. A silence that protected him. A silence that imprisoned me for the next twenty years. Too scared to find my voice. Too scared to disappoint you. Too scared to lose you.
I waited. I waited thinking that one day soon you would use your voices to help me. For I knew people would listen to you; my mother, my nan, my aunt. My family.
Scared and vulnerable I waited and I waited. For minutes, for hours, for days. But all I heard was silence. And so, with the absence of your words, I got my answer. I was alone.
Made to believe his abuse was my fault. Told to feel guilty for being raped. I finally gave in. I finally believed it. Retreating back into myself I began protecting myself the only way I knew how.
One cut, then another, I slowly began painting a picture. Except the paintbrush was a razor, my body the canvas.
One scar, two scars, three then four. Arms and legs and tummy. I lost emotion. I lost my worth. I lost my innocence. I lost my childhood.
Words may sting but it is your silence that broke my heart. You broke my spirit, leaving me vulnerable and afraid.
I was broken. I was fragile. I was silent.
As I grew, my silence spoke a thousand words but you refused to hear them. You lived a lie, wondering if I would ever speak of what he did. Wondering if you had succeeded in silencing me forever. My inner child, my voice, became your echo.
Then one day, not so long ago, somehow I finally broke free.
The hardest thing I have ever done is walk away still loving you. One day you will wake up and notice that you should have tried. I was worth the fight!
You all mistook my silence for a weakness. Saw my scars as attention seeking. But every day that you ignored my silence and what he did to me, made me grow stronger inside. Every scar on my body became a battle scar of a war I tried to win. Each scar showing my struggles but also my triumphs. Another day I fought. Another day I survived.
No longer your echo, I finally found my voice. I told my truth. The truth. I broke my silence.
I am slowly telling my story. I am telling my truth. The truth. No-one else can do it for me because it is mine. I have to speak it.
I am no longer ashamed. I no longer fear your disappointment because I am disappointed in you. You all failed me. Your silence stole my life. Now I am taking it back.
You gave up on me. You made me crack. But one small crack does not mean you are completely broken. It means you were put to the test and you didn’t fall apart.
Your silence made me the warrior I am today.
I am still vulnerable. I will still struggle. However, I will speak the truth, even if my voice shakes. I will break the silence. My silence and yours.
For with the absence of your words I got my answer.
And with the breaking of my silence you have yours!
Thanks for reading
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