The Last Note From The Diary Of A Raped Girl

I am 19,
It has been 5 weeks 6 days,
The count of the days I was dying slowly. . . . .silently

Its the memory of the day I was marred,
The day they gave me this scar. . . . .
Carved out of my body were my skin, my tears, my soul, my life. . . . .

It was 16th of the fall
Half past nine

Routine study session's exhaustion walking home,
Returning from the day's evening

It was a cold night
Fogged streets,
Lamps with no street light

She started to listen to the sounds of that night, she started to feel the cold hands of the night holding her. . . . .she saw herself. . . . .

" 'hey mom, m off from Jen's place. . . . .reach home in 15. . . . .
Ya, okay. . . . .ya. . . . . yaaa mom!! i'll be careful! Bye now!'
God she can be soo protective sometimes!"



Was 5 minutes after mom's call,

Uneasiness shook me,
Restlessness found fear

I knew I was being followed
Four of them, the eye swallowed

Shadows gaining in on me,
My feet found it hard to let me be,

I ran. . . . .

I ran for my life. . . . .
 
Helpless


She started to behave numb as it began. . . . .



They pulled my hair,
Turned me,
Slapped me to the ground. . . . .

I was scared,
I was really scared. . . . . 

I needed to scream,
But I wouldn't,

I couldn't. . . . .

Lips began to bleed,
Tears desperate for help,
Wondering why me. . . . .
Of everyone. . . . .why me. . . . .


I was torn apart,
My clothes, my will, my heart, my faith. . . . .

And then she. . . . .

she let go. . . . .
No more could she see it,


Her will gave away. . . . .

I was raped





They took turns







  
I was spit


They left

 As she continued writing, her warm tears stained the diary. . . . .

My soul felt weak,
As the wind blew sorrows at me,
Dried my tears as the night crawled by. . . . .
As I slept there in those dark shadows of the trees. . . . .



Living has been since then, in silent denial,
Trying to embrace a weary soul,
But people, 'the clean souls,' look at me with regret,
Each sharing sympathy with words that pierce a hole. . . . . 

They said, "Time is a great healer,"
I've known,
Time wasn't a healer,
Time brought me pain,
Time brought me shame. . . . . 

Freeing myself at the end of a rope is far better,


Resting these tired eyes from an endless charade. . . . .

Give this flightless bird its clipped wings so it may fly away,


Just as the dark night delivers the day. . . . . 

I wont call it a suicide. . . . .




I want my grave to say,

'I was raped'






She closed her diary. . . . .
Put aside her ink. . . . .

There were tears as she helped herself for a final time, on to the stool. . . . .on to the rope. . . . .

She took a deep breath. . . . .

Her shadow on the wall suffered a sudden movement



She saw the stool fall slowly. . . . .

She saw her fading toes. . . . .

- Jeswyn m.



P.S. : The images shown are property of their rightful owners.