Lost Battle

The stairs became my friend that day, as I was dragged down a short flight by girls I had only spoken to a few times before. The only thought in my mind was to lash out and make him regret putting his hands on me. I tried to kick and scream my way out of the hands who only wanted to protect me, but I failed. My emotions took over my body and I became limp. I cradled myself in a corner and watched everything unfold before me.

Fear struck instantly when I heard the commotion of what sounded like a fight. A group of guys took him down to the floor to calm his nerves, but he took it as being proven that he was the weakest in the room. He was so worked up over who he had thought texted me and wanted to get to the bottom of it. My name was angrily shouted over and over. The girls who surrounded me knew nothing but to keep me away. They were afraid of what would happen if he and I crossed paths again. Glass was shattered and doors were slammed, yet not once were the police notified. Everyone in that house was an underage drinker… but all I cared about was my safety, as well as everyone else’s.

After this event, the entire senior class wanted nothing to do with his existence. We weren’t invited to anymore parties, (I say “we” because I had no choice but to stay by his side) and liquor officially became off limits. All I needed to do was survive the next few days and everything would hopefully go back to normal. WRONG! The group of girls, who I thought I shared a connection with, went back to taking charge of the hallways and only mingled with “their kind of people.” But no one forgot about what happened over the past weekend, not even a little bit. “The girl who got hit, the abused girl, the girl who.. oh I forgot her name, but the one with the crazy boyfriend!” … this was nonstop chatter within the 2011 senior class, which ended up traveling through the entire school. No one knew my name, but they knew my battles. This was one I just could not win.

What would have to happen for this scene to be erased from everyone’s minds? When were people going to stop looking at me like I had chains wrapped around my ankles? Everyone knew about what happened, yet no one would speak up. They were afraid to approach me, my own friends even. It was like I had a huge bubble wrapped around me and everyone was afraid that it would pop. I didn’t have the strength to stop the rumors… well, they really weren’t rumors, anyway. The gossip being spread around was actually true. I just couldn’t deal with the image everyone was giving me, so I let their words speak instead of doing so myself. In the end, he got what he wanted. People knew him for who he really was, but that didn’t matter because he had a girlfriend who put up with his shit and still respected him come nightfall.

There is no right kind of abuse. It is not okay to control someone with actions or words. It will never be acceptable to put your hands on someone to get them to listen, obey, or respect you. I knew that because this had occurred, it would only bring more tension to the relationship. It happened once, and nothing was done to fix or prevent it from happening again. But maybe, I thought, maybe I’d be more prepared next time. Maybe there was a way for me to feel it coming on and stop it before it went too far. Was that even possible?

No, and there shouldn’t have ever been a next time. I shouldn’t have felt obligated to accept this as my new life, and neither should you. Don’t sit there and wait for it to happen again. Stand up, open the door, and slam it behind you as you walk away with your head held high.

A new door has just opened… are you willing to see where it takes you?


19 thoughts on “Lost Battle”

  1. This read was really insightful as to what it’s REALLY like to be a victim of abuse. What I didn’t expect was that so many people would get so weird about it, and try to dance around it like they did. I find it sad that you also lost your identity in it. Like, you became “the abused girl”, but no one knew you by name. That’s sickening, especially paired with the fact that no one stood up for you. It was really brave for you to have your own back. You reclaimed your life for yourself. I hope that guy who did that to you got what he deserved.

    Liked by 1 person

  2. This was amazing insight into what it’s like to be an abuse victim. It’s actually shocking that no one tried to help, and that people only thought of you as “the abused girl”. But, you fought for yourself, and reclaimed your life, and that’s SUPER inspiring. Do you happen to have a post on how you did it?

    Liked by 1 person

    1. I see what you mean about the two comments! That’s okay, WordPress is weird sometimes. But thank you so much for your kind words. I have posts about how I got myself out of a depression after a certain event. There were many times I woke up and said, this is enough. I can’t be like this anymore. And that’s why I’m writing about it. I’m the voice for others who are struggling and my goal is to get them to open up and live a better life. I want them to love their life just as I’m learning to now.

      Liked by 1 person

  3. Wow very powerful blog post! Being a child of a abused survivor and being a survivor myself in high school, this really struck a cord. I’m thankful you wrote this because you are helping so many with your story and allowing them to see they are not alone!

    Liked by 1 person

  4. Such an emotional read! I am so sorry you have experienced such a terrible thing, we women are strong and we survive always, no matter how others see you. A victim is someone to be helped and offered support not to be avoided as if she has done something wrong.

    Liked by 1 person

  5. I seriously continue to be so impressed with your writing! I feel as though I’m right there with you, experiencing what you’re going through (which I think adds another necessary element to the post to help people see just what people in your situation lived with). I noticed you commented on my most recent comment, saying writing is a passion of yours – have you ever thought about trying to writing some sort of novel/short story to help get more awareness out there? You could always self-publish!

    Liked by 1 person

    1. That means a lot to me, honestly. That’s exactly why I love to write.. I feel like I can describe the situation so perfectly to put my audience right there with me. It’s raw, honest. Everything I always am. I would love to do that, just have no idea on how to get started!


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