The Boy That Got Away; An Inadequacy of Justice.

Hey Guys.

This is a slight emotive and a not too uplifting post for you to read; so I warn you. In this post, I will describe in vague detail what happened to me on the dates of 27th, 28th, and 31st December 2012, and the 1st, and 2nd of January 2013. It eats me up everyday, but I think I’m just a little bit ready to share it, also I think it would benefit me in the way that I can express how I feel about the situation, however on the other hand, it may destroy me even more and make me remember the little details that I live with. I don’t want sympathy, I don’t want people to feel sorry for me; this isn’t an ‘attention seeking’ post and I will gain nothing from this post except a spill out of emotions.

I was sexually abused (The forcing of unwanted sexual activity by one person on another, as by the use of threats or coercion), By my mum’s boyfriends son, which is why the situation is complicated, but it shouldn’t be, right?

He asked me to be his girlfriend, I said no, but he insisted. I knew he has/had anger management problems. I continued to say no. He dragged me around the corner in the warehouse when our break finally came, and he didn’t let me go, because I was ‘his property’. He was so much bigger than me, and stronger. He decided he wanted me, and in the end he finally got me. After dragging me round the corner of a palette, he pushed me up against the side of it and kept kissing my neck, while holding my mouth shut. He felt me, he ran his dirty hands up my legs and around my waist. I struggled free and crawled under his legs; but he simply grabbed me by my hair and pushed me back down onto the floor. He carried on, but he was half laying on me; he preferred this way because no one could see us behind the palettes as they walked past. Our break was over, and I was still working with him, sticking stickers on waffles that were being sent to Tescos. It was lunchtime, and unfortunately, my mums boyfriend was treating us to a McDonalds. I was furious with Jack, and now I had to sit with him while he stared at me eating. We got back to the warehouse, but still had a while till we started work again. He took me by the wrist and pulled me until we got to the unisex toilets. He locked us in, and cuddled me. His arms covered the top half of my body and I was forced to smell his clothing. The next day, I carried on and got back to work. Break time came, I asked my mums boyfriend if I could go out and go to the shop. But Jack came with me. We went to the park. We got back, and lunchtime was worse. He went out to get lunch for us, so I hid. He found me after he rang me, he wanted to play a dirty version of truth or dare. I said no. But he started up the app for it on his phone. I cried, a lot. He watched the tears that streamed down my face, but he ignored it, he didn’t care. He watched me cry, but usually found it amusing. You can guess what happened next. I was an idiot. I was texting my friend Gemma at the time, except I told her that he only tried to kiss me. But Jack continued to steel my phone so I could say no more. He got more aggressive because I fought more; he wanted to be inside of me, he wanted to use his hands and fingers any way he wanted; but he touched everything, and I mean everything. He wasn’t experienced in any way, he didn’t know what he was doing with my body, but it hurt, a lot. He grabbed me by my arms, which is why that place is the center of where my self harm is. He grabbed my hair. He ripped it out. He pushed me to the floor and held me up against walls and palettes. He threatened me and called me names. He held his hand over my mouth so that I couldn’t shout. He hurt me. I saw evil in him, I have never had so much hate for someone, and he betrayed my trust that he got from when we previously met. He let everyone I know down because of what he did; I trust no one, I have no proper friends, I haven’t had a relationship since, he makes me physically sick. He did worse to me than what I have talked about on the other days I saw him at work, but I won’t go into that. I was horrified at what I’d experienced, but afterwards I thought it was normal. Only a while later did I realise that no one is allowed or has any right to hurt you in any way. I thought, and do still think that what happened was all my fault. I constantly think about what I should have done differently. And who knows, it could be all be my fault. But, the things I have to deal with, I know are not my fault; I walk around the outside of a corner, just so I can see who’s around that corner of the corridor at school before I actually go round it, I don’t like sudden movements, or someone suddenly touching me without warning. I like hugs and cuddles, but I have to be able to breathe fully. I hate enclosed spaces, and spaces where I don’t know the way out of. I constantly wash myself with a lot of soap, because I still smell his scent and see his hand marks on my skin. I hate being around people because there’s a chance that they could hurt me physically, this boy has made me trapped, this boy has made me push people away, including the friends I used to have. This boy has made my social life hell. Like in Lord Of The Flies; I believe that there is a beast within every human being, I believe that it takes a horrible situation to bring it out of someone, Jack in Lord Of The Flies was one of the ones that represented the defects in human nature. The Jack I unfortunately came across, did the exact same; he let down humans, he showed the defects in human nature. And what’s worse, he doesn’t care, he didn’t think he did anything wrong, he got away scot free.

Charlotte xxx

 

The Consequences That Would Mean Happiness.

Hey.

Sometimes, happiness can have consequences, but for other people besides yourself.

But for your own happiness, would you let these consequences enter the lives of the people around you? See, I don’t think I could. I follow through with steps to the unknown.. suicide, and then hold myself back purely because I don’t want to hurt others. I don’t want to be here, but I’d rather spare their feelings, than die knowing I’m a selfish person, which I am not.

I imagine my mum finding me, I imagine my younger sisters finding me… how cruel would that be, to find your big sister or your daughter completely lifeless, but without the pain that she lived with day after day when she was alive. I imagine my funeral, but I don’t imagine anyone there except two close friends and some of my family, no one else really cares to see me sad. I imagine the days after my death, the years that follow my death, how would my mum cope? My sisters? My dad, how would he cope with the guilt of not knowing anything about the sadness my life has come to? He has another family, my mum has never told him anything about the past year of my life, he would be crushed. I also think about a blog that I read frequently called My Bright Shining Star, which is written by a mother who lost her child to suicide and suffers from depression herself. Rhonda talks about the sadness that has taken over her since her daughter committed suicide on the 11th of April last year. It makes me unhappy to hear how she feels, as this is how my own mother may feel if I do the same. I imagine the world without me, or my school without me; except when I think about that, nothing changes and everything carries on. I don’t believe my two best friends would care for long about my death, which upsets me enormously, however, they hide emotion and are older, I believe that both of them would keep any emotion they have towards me, locked up. I imagine my horse, and my other pets who I have special bonds with. It would confuse them if they had another person taking them on walks, etc.

I’m sad, I’m drowning, my lifeless mind is trapped inside a body that is alive. I hate waking up wondering if I’ll make it through that day, or if I may be tipped too much over the edge to cope. I think I want to die, but in reality I want to be saved.

Charlotte xxx

Not everyone who smiles is happy..

Hey guys!

Never assume someone is happy if they are smiling. A smile can show happiness, peace, love. But behind that smile could be someone who is suffering. Someone who is drowning and needs to be saved. Someone who has a million problems, but they choose to show the blind world that this doesn’t go on. Those people are the strongest of all and no one realises this. The ones who fake the smiles are the people that drag themselves out of bed every morning just to feel horrible all day. They feel rubbish about their image, the way they see the world, how beautiful their friends are, etc. But the truth is, the ones who are suffering deep inside are the most beautiful people of all. They have the willpower to fight, they have the willpower to carry on  hoping that someone will take notice of them, they have the willpower to keep believing that someone will put a stop to the drowning they can’t get away from. Never underestimate the lengths that some will go to, just to get the attention, just to be noticed. They could think they want to die, they could think they want to leave this earth and that no one would notice, but in reality they just want to be saved.. by a person that cares. They just want to know what it’s like to experience happiness; that forbidden word or emotion/feeling that they don’t believe they deserve. Don’t overlook someone and assume they’re okay just because they’re ‘smiling’.

Thanks for reading, Charlotte xxx