I Said No

Chapter twenty four

"I'm sorry if I made you do anything you didn't want to do."

Those were the last words Danny said to me that night. In the darkness of Alicia's room, with the party happening downstairs below us, in the quietness around me. In a calm low voice, he apologized to me, if he made me do anything I didn't want to do. Saying that as he climbed off of me and laid beside me.

Through my constant no's, he continued on, but if he apologizes afterwards, does that make it all better? It seemed almost insulting, 'hey, I raped you, but I said sorry, so we're cool right?'

His apology is how I know I was raped. He knew he raped me that night. He knew he was doing something wrong. He knew. And I knew. For some reason, I whispered 'it's ok,' as he laid next to me, tears slowly streaming down my cheeks. Probably because I have always been a people pleaser. Or because I was putting his feelings before my own.

For a few brief moments, we laid there, my tears quietly becoming heavier and heavier. But I didn't move. I didn't think to leave. I wanted him to leave. To go anywhere but here. And leave me in my misery. Leave me to fully cry. To let out the scream that has been locked inside of me. But he didn't leave. He didn't go home.

He got back on top of me.

He apologized and then raped me again.

The second time I was stronger. That time I was more aware and awake. I was able to do more than just say 'no.' I was able to push him off of me. I was able to run away. I was able to find Alicia.

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I want to go to church, but it just doesn't feel right. It doesn't feel appropriate to go somewhere where everyone knows I have had sex and not only that, but that I've been raped. Maybe God didn't want me there. Maybe that's why I was kicked out of our youth group. Maybe that's why the pastor called me out. Maybe God doesn't want me.

Could God want me?

After all of this, could he still accept me for who I am? This broken little piece of who I used to be.

Maybe I can go to a different church.

My aunt is always raving on and on about hers. I think I will just go try it out.

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I didn't tell her I was going to be here. I found a seat by myself towards the back. The worship team is awesome. Long beautiful songs with a rock flare. I sway to the music, my arms in the air, inviting God back into my life.

The pastor comes up on stage after 30 minutes of worship. He's tall, the body of a basketball player, blonde, and has the biggest purest smile. 

His message is funny and so understanding. It seems like he accepts all wakes of life, and ensures us that God does the same. Discussing how Jesus' friends were all sinners. The prostitutes, the tax collectors. He didn't hang out with the high and mighty. He was down in the dirt helping the people who really needed it.

I need it. I need help. I feel stuck in this treacherous cycle of depression, binge drinking, feeling sorry for myself, not eating, crying, not crying, feeling ok one day, anxiety so strong I throw up another, trying to feel love from a man, hating everyone, wanting a friend, depression hitting again. Allowing the cycle to start from the top.

I want God to be the answer, but I'm not sure how. I'm not ready yet. I'm not ready to discontinue this cycle. I'm not ready to get out of bed for good. I'm not ready to clean up my life and begin again.

But maybe it is time. I've obviously not been making good choices. I know that.  Sleeping all day, taking my medicine cabinet of pills, having sex with someone new, not eating, allowing my house to become a place of disarray and insanity. It's not healthy. I'm not healthy. My mental health is not healthy.

But how do I end this cycle? How do I truly end it—forever? I've had some good days, but the bad days tremendously outweigh them. My bad days are scary. They are dark. I'm scared of what I could do to myself.

I don't want to die.

I don't want to be sad anymore.

But then I come back to think about what happened; what happened to me. And the same cycle begins. I immediately feel sad. I immediately feel dirty.

"Remember, God loves you. Each of you. No matter your path, he is here for you. Just talk and he'll be listening," the pastor finishes and the band is back up to play one last song.

"Lord, I need help. I need you," I whisper as my tear ducts start to secrete once again. "I can't do this alone. Help me heal. Help me feel better. I need you." The person sitting next to me puts their arm on my back and rubs it, acknowledging my pain, understanding. I get up and leave the church.

I will never go back to my church, this is now my church. This inviting, understanding, beautiful place of worship. Where the people love and don't cast their judgement. Maybe this church will help me heal. Maybe this is where I need to be. I feel myself smiling. A true smile that comes from within. My entire body feels lighter. I feel like a little piece of me has been restored. This piece of understanding that I want to be better. That I want to heal. That I want to go back to how I was.

I hear a text coming in and check my phone in my car.

'Hey, want to get drunk tonight with me and Taylor at her place?' It's Layla.

'Sure.'

***Author's note***

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