AllFreeNovel
Share Us
“Is this about the kiss?” Aaron asks.
I shake my head. “It’s about everything. I wish I didn’t feel like this, but everything is messed up now. And when I’m with you, all I can feel is—” I stop short, shaking my head, knowing I’m not making sense. But I don’t want to tell him I love him, only to force him to walk away. That’s not fair to either of us.
I step over and take his hand, allowing myself to feel that rush. Our connection. “I’m sorry. I know it’s not fair. I know it’s not easy for you to hear, but I need a break. You know I’ll always be here if youneedme. But otherwise…”
“What does space mean?” he chokes out. My heart shatters knowing how much it’s hurting him.
Not being us.
“It means not being around each other much. I’m not saying we have to avoid group things or being in the same place, but it means I need you to stop coming over and checking on me. No more randomly dropping by. No hanging out all day. Because I can’t—”
“I…” He looks at me, his face going through a range of emotions. First it seems like he might fight me, then he seems uncertain. Now I see the pain in his eyes. His shoulders soften and he says, “If that’s what you need. But… promise me it’s not forever.”
“Of course not. You’re my person, Ace. I just…” I trail off. This hurts. Especially watching such intense emotions was over him and knowing I’m the cause.
“I get it.”
He clears his throat, then kisses my forehead before squeezing my hands and letting them go.
“Goodnight, Beautiful.”
Then he turns and walks away.
I watch him, staring at the stairs even after I’ve heard his truck leave the driveway. I let out a few shuddery breaths, then turn back to the window.
When I get inside, I lock the window, close the curtain, and put my desk chair in front of the door to my room. I want to drop onto the floor and cry, but tears won’t fix this. And I’m going to fix this. Well, I’m sure as hell going to try.
Mike Thomas took a lot of things from me, but I’m taking them back. I need to heal. I don’t want to give up on myself. And I don’t want to give up on my future with Aaron. It might take me some time to get there, but I’m going to get there.
So, no more tears. Instead, I change into my comfiest pajamas and start researching. Knowledge is power.
I write down a few coping mechanisms I see for dealing with trauma and triggering thoughts. Some of them—like deep breathing and meditation—I’ve already been doing, and they’ve helped. Others related to dealing with triggering thoughts, I made a note to try whenever it happens again.
An hour into reading and researching different things, I click on an article called,Reconnecting with Your Body After Sexual Assault.In it, a psychiatrist details how touching your body—specifically masturbating—can help you feel more comfortable with your body again. I’m about to call bullshit. The thought of anything sexual makes my stomach turn, but the article continues with words from many sexual assault survivors detailing how they started by simply touching their own skin again and how it ultimately helped them regain control. A few said it helped them feel more in touch with their body than they were before they were assaulted.
I sit back and think about that for a few minutes.
It’s true, my body hasn’t felt like my own. Before the assault, I used to masturbate regularly. My mom always told Sarah and me it was a healthy thing to do—to know and understand our own bodies.
Okay. Maybe.
I stand up and walk over to my mirror. I’ve avoided even looking at the mirror most of the time, but maybe I need to push through that. Stripping off my clothes, I step in front of the mirror. My stomach lurches, but I don’t allow myself to step away. I stare into the mirror, really focusing on what I see and how I feel. It feels good for a second, until I see the spots he touched me—even if I did have clothes on at the time.
I take that as a sign to stop and step away.
I lie down in bed and pull the blankets up, letting my hands trail across my skin—though I avoid any spots he touched.
Focusing on how my skin feels against my fingers and the warmth of my hands on my skin, I start to relax.
After a while of that, I feel ready. With a deep breath, I slide one hand between my legs. I’m not trying to make anything happen. I’m exploring. Feeling.
Initially, I don’t feel much of anything, but as I relax, a familiar warmth begins to spread. I move my fingers a little faster, but as my heart rate picks up and anticipation grows, my stomach sours again, and I know it’s time to stop.
I wash up and get dressed, do a short bedtime yoga video, then slide back into bed.
My head is clearer. I feel genuine relaxation. More than that, I feel proud. Proud that I did this for myself, that I’m focusing on myself. I don’t know what tomorrow is going to bring, but I finally feel like I’m dealing with this, like I’ve taken a step forward. I’m ready for that.
I flip my light off and get settled in bed, then I repeat the phrase “I am strong” between slow, deep breaths until I fall asleep, more relaxed than I have been in a long time.
