Once upon a time I was a heavy sleeper, nothing could rouse me from slumber. It was early morning and I slowly started to stir, feeling groggy but rested.
I felt.. exposed. There was cool air where normally I would be warm from a blanket. The blanket was gone and my underwear was missing.
The sleepy haze finally started to lift from my mind when I looked over and saw him cleaning himself up. In that moment I realized something had happened. Something I never gave consent for. Panic settled into my mind.
He said that I moaned and he thought I was awake. Did he really think that or was it a lie to make me feel better about it?
I rushed to get ready, to put some clothes on and feel protected in some way. He said he was sorry. Then hugged and kissed me.
I told my best friend what had happened, and they reassured me that it wasn’t right. They made me realize that my frustration was validated.
His manipulation skills had me believing that it wasn’t a big deal. That couples did things like that all of the time and it was normal.
My skin was red and on fire as I scratched it with my loofah, pumping more and more soap onto it hoping that it would make the disgust and shame rinse off down into the drain.
How long has it been since, and I’m still afraid to close my eyes at night? I wake at even the slightest sound or movement, terror making my heart pound out of my chest. Tears stinging my eyes and cheeks.
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