TRIGGER WARNING: SEXUAL ASSAULT,SELF HARM.
It was a blue lazy afternoon,for Ginnie. Her concrete walls seemed thicker than usual, and once again she had woken up with cold sweat and fumble heartbeats. She dragged her way to the breakfast table, and poured raw milk into her cereal. Raw. As raw and still as her voluntarily distant memories.
If we go back a couple of months, you would have found her throttled in between seafoam green walls, lying down on an occupied bed, unconscious,naked. She had woken up to a known man, a known face, known voice and an unknown consent. She laid, motionless, trying to understand what had happened. Assault,abuse, rape? Questions that still remain unanswered to her.
She lied, she refused to believe that it was anything horrific, she did so because it was easier.
Raw milk, back to the raw milk.
Lectures, meetings, assignments,sheets, smiling faces, all awaited her, so she followed. As she heavied in,her shadow lingered restlessly.
She ran down the stairs of her apartment, thick sweat all over her neck, muffling her ears to voices. Voices that were not necessarily evil, but harmful enough to alienate her from real time. Pain was real, undeniable, and it had taken its form.
Demons,she called them,like stones attached to a bird’s feet.
Woefully, her demons had become larger than her. And once again she laid down unconscious , on a known bed, with a known consent.
And her shadow lingered and asked, ” Did it really happen?”