Fateful Day
It began as a mistake. A simple text message. The room smelt of nicotine and stale lager, a sign of what had been a good night, what had been a good day; she kicked a can out of the way and stood in front of the mirror. Her shimmering reflection started back at her with redness in its eyes, the glaring light in the room combining with her tears splintering everything in her vision. She turned away from the mirror slowly and reached down for her coat, an object not needed in the weather but one she chose to wear all the same. Trepidation ran through her veins as she zipped up the front and buttoned the three buttons, leaning down she picked up a cigarette and lit it, attempting to delay the meeting that she has just made. She looked around the room and shuddered; taking a deep breath of the cigarette she shook her head and left her bedroom.
She arrived at the coffee shop a few minutes before her friend, the one she had text in an emotional panic and ordered two black coffees, the smell so rich made her smile and as she took them to an empty table she noticed the tall figure of her friend walk in and smile at her. He took the seat next to her and smiled.
“So what is it? Money problems, housing, uni, your mum?”
Emma Louise picked up her coffee and slipped it slowly enjoying the burn as it slid down her throat, looking up she met her best friend’s eyes.
“No, nothing like that…” she felt the tears well up in her eyes.
“Well?” Dylan responded.
“It was last night after you left, I invited him over” She stayed starting at the floor, and then the table where they had placed a solitary flower; she wanted to look anywhere but at his face.
“Right…”
“Well, you know he…” she finally stopped and looked in to his face, sure he could see the fear on hers, wondering if he would just know “herapedme” she spluttered as one word, and before he could react she added “But at least he didn’t kill me”
Dylan sat there and looked at her, concern in his face.
“Oh, darling. We should phone the police”
“No but why I mean…”
“You can’t let him get away with it”
Emma Louise finished her coffee and sighed knowing that this wasn’t an argument she was going to win so instead insisted that she at least be allowed to go hope and smoke a lot before ringing them. Back in her room the stench of empty cans and nicotine hit her again, but this time instead of remembering the fun she’d had with Dylan before the ‘incident’ she remembered what happened next. The touch, the smell, words, the laughs and smile, the hell.
“I can’t do it. I can’t ring them” she whispered, lighting another cigarette immediately after putting one out “I can’t I can’t ruin his life or mine and I mean they won’t believe me anyway”
“We’ll walk down, give you a chance to think about it, okay? But you are definitely doing it, even if I have to make you”
June 29th
Hey All
I wanted to update sooner. I wanted to say more about me. But these things have got sidetracked. So I’m going to update about something that has happened, something that is tearing me apart.
On Monday night my ex-boyfriend raped me.
Tuesday morning I was a mess and decided to tell my closest/best friend. He took it ‘well’ although insisted I go to the police. I didn’t really want to, I felt bad about what happened etc but in the end we did. So Tuesday was spent giving a statement and spending an insane amount of time at CASA (Care After Sexual Assault) getting a medical etc. The people there were insanely nice, the whole thing was scary, but somehow they managed to make it less so. The worst bit was the internal exam, it was like going through it all over again, they said it was just like your smear test, remind me to avoid getting one of those in the close future!
They were all quite amazed that I had Dylan with me, I can see why, I mean I don’t think many people would turned to a guy after having been raped and I guess it surprised me too, I could have asked my female housemate but I chose him instead. I guess it was stranger when the police officer asked if I wanted to continue with reporting it and if I wanted Dylan to come, I mean I had just screamed at this poor bloke, crying and telling him that no one would believe me and that I was just a piece of meat, to which he replied he believed me, in like a second. It made the thought of going on with it easier, to know that the first police officer involved believed me, he may have been lying but it helped all the same.
Wednesday morning the police ring me via Dylan’s phone, they’ve taken mine as evidence, due to the fact me and ****** text before he came round, I’ve told everyone my phone is broken and has been sent to be repaired, I don’t want everyone knowing this, it’s bad enough that one person knows. He’s been arrested and in custody. Throughout the day I get an update that they’re trying to get hold of the CPS (Crown Prosecution Service) to work out what to do, he’s saying I consented. Wednesday night they ring again. He’s been released on bail and has to return to the police station at the end of August. She apologises that it’s so long away but it’s difficult to get an appointment, but they are also going to talk to a local solicitor to discuss it (I think, it’s all a bit confusing).
Through all of this my friend has been amazing. He spent Tuesday, Wednesday and most of yesterday with me. Tuesday and Wednesday night I stayed in his bed, with him willingly sleeping on the sofa. Last night I decided it was unfair of me to ‘steal’ his bed for another night so I came home. He helped me make my bed and stayed for a while. The second he left I spend 3 hours shaking; I was exhausted, but didn’t even want to think about sleeping in the bed. So I folded my duvet in half, got my pillows, a spare sheet and made a makeshift ‘bed’ on the floor.
Today I woke up feeling ok…Until I realised I was sleeping on the floor and everything came flooding back to me.
Sorry this is such a…depressing post, but I had to let it out somewhere.
June 30th
So, I’m trying to keep busy, that should be easier said than done but I feel so tired. Last night I actually slept in my bed. I’m thinking that that was probably pushing myself bit too far. I woke up in a state and just had to get out of the house. I need to stop over doing things but it’s the only way I can stop from completely cracking up.
I’m starting to regret even going to the police, I feel so guilty for putting *him* through the ordeal of interviews and all that sh*t. Part of me just wants to ring them up and tell them to forget it, it feels like such a horrible thing to do, to drag another human being through this stuff. I mean, if this actually gets to court and he gets charged (I’m not holding my breath as it boils down to my word against his, and I was drunk and have mental health issues) he’ll most probably lose his job (he works with vulnerable adults), go to jail, and maybe even end up on the sex offenders register. I don’t know if I can do that to another human being. Don’t get me wrong, I know what he did was WRONG. I know I did not consent. But still…I’ve honestly thought about killing myself just to put an end to it. An end to the guilt, an end to both my suffering and his. Although I doubt he’s suffering, and I’d pretty sure I’ve been painted as the evil vindictive mental ex girlfriend. I keep telling myself that I’m telling the truth, I know it’s the truth, I’m damned sure he knows that it’s the truth, but, but, but…I don’t even know, but what? But I don’t know if I can knowingly cause another suffer. I’m sure that my best mate is feeling absolutely crappy because of the whole thing, because I’m dragging *him* through it as well.
I should have just kept my mouth shut. Or at least not have gone to the police. Not only am I slowly killing myself by doing this, I’m dragging two other people through it with me and one of those definitely doesn’t deserve it!! The other…well…when he walks away without even having to go to court because there isn’t enough evidence then it reinforces one thing, I’ve hurt others for nothing.
Edit: I finally did it. I told my mum. The guilt of lying to her (she thought I had a new number because I’d broke my phone) wasn’t helping with things so I asked her to call me and I told her. She took it well, although there wasn’t really much that she could say to be honest. I’m going to go down there in a few days to get away from here, to get out of this room.
July 2nd
I’ve packed everything :o)
Feeling completely sh*t now. I just wish everything would stop, that I could somehow press pause and then rewind. Change the last week so that none of the sorry situation happened or so that I at least fought back. I am so weak.
The urge to die just to end this whole sorry affair is still spinning around my head. I hate this guilt. I hate knowing that I’m causing others to suffer. I hate feeling so…immoral.
I know that I’m an evil person. That at the end of the day…well, I should have handled everything differently. Completely and utterly differently. People say you never know how you’ll react in that situation, but I’ve been there before several times, and never have I reacted like that. Never have I felt so evil afterwards. I’ve felt guilt, felt that I’ve deserved it, but never ever have I felt like this. I don’t know how I’m meant to deal with it; my head just doesn’t seem to want to function. I’m just waiting for everything to come crashing down. I’m waiting for the crack in my resolve to expand until I crumble and withdraw my statement and say I don’t want to press charges. That’s how weak I am, that would be an easier way out, and hell, I’m thinking about it. Nothing is going to come of it anyway so why am I wasting police resources and government money on a wild goose chase?
Not only am I dragging people down, I’m wasting money and resources. Is it really worth any of this?? Is what he did to me really worth it? Wouldn’t it just be better if I disappeared and everyone could forget about the whole stupid thing and forget about me?
I wish I could erase myself. I wish I had the strength and courage to kill myself.
I am so weak on so many levels. I really don’t deserve to take up space on this earth; there are people that deserve the time and effort that goes in to me. There are people so much more deserving, so much more. But still, here I am wasting space. It’s all completely sh*t.
July 10th
I took a step today and phoned the police to find out what was going on with the case. Turns out that the person in charge has an appointment with the CPS on Friday to find out the outcome. I really can’t see it going any further in all honesty, not given the statistics on rape prosecution, the situation that lead to it etc etc, but it will be, um, helpful to get some kind of closure on it, even if it is just knowing that there is no more the police can do about it. I have resigned myself to that fact but knowing will make it slightly, easier, and if, by a miracle this goes to court then, well I just don’t know. It’s fixed in my mind that that won’t happen so…
I’ve got my first appointment with my CPN on Monday which should be interesting as when I was down my mum’s I was writing him an assortment of letters ranting and raving about everything!
I’ve got a dr’s appointment tomorrow, my second attempt at getting a medical certificate to say I’m fit to return to uni, and also to get more meds as I’ve been put back on weekly prescriptions. Although I hate it I’m thankful at the same time, sometimes the urge to overdose is too strong and it’s helpful not to have the meds to be able to do it. I hope she’ll give it to me, because it’s only 18 days until registration! I feel ashamed that I’m retaking the year but at the same time it’s a chance to prove to myself that I *can* do it.
Eating is so-so, I’m trying not to fall back in to old habits, but it’s a bit of a struggle, I’m determined not too really, I just don’t know how strong I am.
Love to you all xx
September 12th
I’m still waiting to know, still waiting to find out when I can start the closure, regardless of whether he is charged or not I can’t start to close the door until I know.
I thought I’d share a poem I wrote down my mum’s after I finally gave in and self-harmed because of it, I haven’t self-harmed since and it was the first time in a good few months that I’d done it, but it made me able to express myself.
Untitled
So to let the healing begin
I let him win,
I dragged the steel across my skin,
What is outside once was in.
To stop this internal pain,
I did it again
to try and keep myself sane,
Oh, wouldn’t you do the same?
I let the Devil sleep beside me,
My stupidity, the key,
All along too blind to see
what he would turn out to be.
So now I sit with crimson tears
Scared to say all of my fears,
hearing my words as sneers
that slowly turn to hateful jeers.
To stop the shouting in my head
I’d make a wish to soon be dead,
But I’ll wake tomorrow in this bed
to live this life full of dread.
I’m too weak to kill myself
but I can feel and I can bleed,
and now I will forgive myself
For what you’ve done to me.
September 21st
So I’m still waiting, still thinking that I could call them but it would seem too pushy, I mean they’ll ring me when they know obviously so there’s no point in me getting in the way, right?
Yesterday wasn’t so bad, I only had 4 drinks (rather than a whole litre of gin which was becoming my ‘normal’) and I ate 4 slices of toast. So good on the drinking, not so good on the eating ‘properly’. Today as it stands I’ve not had a drink (but it is only coming up to 5pm) and so far I’ve had 4 slices of toast, but that could change, although I doubt it. I want to start the day well, I’d promised myself I’d get up at a sensible time and have a coffee and a bagel for breakfast and make sure I ate 3 meals today, but instead half an hour ago I had the aforementioned toast, so the big plan didn’t really work :o)
Uni is meant to start next week but the Dr is still being weird about giving me a letter to say I can return to study, which is stressful, but hopefully when I see her Thursday she will have spoken to the CPN and will do it, I’ve told both CPN and Dr that I need to do this because even though I failed last year I need to do something to try and prove to myself that I have some self-worth, and that I can actually do it. The CPN is all for trying to raise my opinion of myself, LOL.
Speaking of which so many people both in real life and online keep calling me ‘brave’ and ‘courageous’ and even ‘awesome’, but I don’t feel it. I feel like a big fat fake. I haven’t saved a life, I wasn’t in a situation where I was beaten or my life was endangered. I just don’t deserve the praise of others.
Love to you all xx
October 11th
He’s not being charged.
I found out yesterday.
I got drunk and suicidal.
Still feel cr*p.
Emma Louise shuddered and pressed the close browser button, reading through her online diary entries maybe hadn’t been the best of ideas, she was amazed at how much she had missed out, the small details, like the insane heat of the day, an air so dry it was horrific and that she had worn her winter coat and a jumper throughout the whole thing. The jokes she made with Dylan about killing Him by chopping him up, the fact she even jokingly mentioned it to the police, the fact she managed to laugh. Closing down her laptop she looked across the room and smiled, yes it had been horrific but despite everything she had made it through, she survived.
lettingtheinsideout 