My breakdown in two acts

Last night, I tried to get my mind off of Travis by hanging out with Colin and Peter. Everything was lovely at first, we were so very, very high. But then Sandor just walked in. I remember why now, but I remember being very, very unnerved that he intruded on us. He brought with him this crazy man (Rick, maybe?), who was loudly muttering outside and at some point tried to enter the building, uninvited. This almost immediately triggered me, partly because I was too high to handle the situation and another because my anxiety had been unusually peaked. Sandor stood in the threshold for what felt like ages, drunk and rambling. He wanted something, to store something, as it were. His presence made me very uncomfortable and just writing this actually makes me uncomfortable. He then started to talk about how he has been hanging out with Zach. I asked him if it was Gignac and he confirmed it with me. Tipping point achieved. I asked him not to hang out with him. He asked, “Why?”. I told him to just take my word for it. He continued to pry, almost immediately defensive and accusative (I should’ve known) and I said “Because he fucking raped me. That’s why.” Bam, blurted out. In front of a room full of people. He kept asking questions, pushing more and more. Stating that if I were asking “such a favour” of him that he at least deserved to know why. Luckily, Peter stuck up for me. He said I didn’t have to answer any of his questions. I didn’t. I told him to ask Vince what happened. Vince was there. Vince can prove this happened. He said he wasn’t going to be talking to Vince again. He then tried to throw the fact that I was at the Merchant with both Vince and Zach the first time we met. I quickly in-fucking-formed him that I was very angry that day because Vince WAS THERE AND KNEW WHAT HAPPENED, YET STILL BROUGHT THEM TO MY TABLE. There was a brief change of subject and then Sandor escorted himself out. We were watching Holy Mountain when he showed up and we had paused it, right at a very opportune moment of a woman being tied up and sexually assaulted. To my disbelief, his parting words were, “Well, I’ll leave you be. I wouldn’t want to ruin your experience of watching someone get WILLINGLY RAPED (as he said this, he lurched around the corner and said these two words to me and me alone)”. I sat there for a minute, astonished that this had just happened. The only words I could squeeze out from my parched throat were, “What did he just say?!”. I sat there, dumb founded. Wounded. Shocked. Mostly shocked. A tidal wave of panic and dread started to wash over me. Peter said he heard that too. He said it was definitely intentional and that the way he said it, implied he knew way more than he put on. I just stared in silence. My brain started to weave this horrible fucking web of realization. If Sandor already heard this, this means that Zach is going around telling everyone I am some psycho bitch who said he raped her, when I was a willing participant. If that wasn’t worse enough, that means that other people believe him. That means that Mike, my first abuser, whom Zach is friends with, has just been validated in his abuse against me. That means that there is a very LARGE cell of mentally unstable, abusive, harmful men, two of which have already hurt me, who feel so much hatred and animosity toward me, that they might actually hurt me again. I’m so fucking afraid. It also means that anything I do or say against them will be discounted as me being “crazy” or “insane”. And every single thing I have ever said to anyone will be discounted as lies and manipulation. I started mumbling about validating what Sandor has said to me. And I sat there for a few minutes, brewing like a fucking storm. I was trying to breathe slowly, but I was digging my nail so hard into my skin, trying to focus on the pain. Trying to distract myself. And then I just exploded, I started to ramble about how this means that and how my world is about to fucking implode and I get cut off, mid-sentence. “Maybe we shouldn’t talk about this right now”, he says. “Let’s not talk about this.” Bewildered, I hissed “Fine. Fine. Whatever.” At this point I had begun boiling with rage. Colin pipes in, “Yeah, I think that is a very good call. A very good one, right now.” I snapped, inside. Finished. Done. Broken. I started to think of an exit strategy. How do I leave without them thinking I’m even more insane than they think I am. Who are they to diminish my experiences because it makes them uncomfortable. MY LIFE IS RUINED BECAUSE OF THESE PEOPLE AND THEY SHUT ME UP BECAUSE I AM MAKING THEM UNCOMFORTABLE. I’m just screaming inside, wanting to self harm so fucking much when my phone rang. “Do you need me to pick you up before I go to bed?” Yes. I can use a ride. Sigh of relief. All I had to do is to play it cool until she arrived. I waited a few minutes, put my jacket on and stood up. “I have to wait for my mom outside.” They offer to come outside and wait with me. As I’m putting my jacket on, Peter apologizes for silencing me. Says he should’ve let me talk about it if I had to. I told him I didn’t want to talk about it right then, because it goes so much deeper than what he touched on. I wanted to scream at him about rape culture and silencing women. But he didn’t fucking know. He doesn’t understand. He doesn’t understand my pain. No one does. My mom came, I left. 

I wasn’t going to tell my mom what happened but she knew something was up immediately. I tried to explain but I couldn’t get the words out of my mouth. I was hyperventilating and seething with anger. I finally exploded the night’s tale to her, in between gasps for air. She handled it better than I thought she was going to. She didn’t shame me, she just listened. She offered me a xanax and I took it immediately. It helped so much. I was still so fucking high and on top of all of the trauma, I was dealing with the anxiety of having to deal with it while so fucking high. I took my contacts out and tried to cry for help to someone, but everyone was asleep and i didnt want to appear like a madman. I started to go through my pictures and began hating myself, tearing myself apart. I kept trying to tell myself that what happened was real. It was. It happened. Vince was fucking there, it happened. I started to realize how many people this may trickle down to. If they asked Vince, would he tell the truth? He hates me, what if he lied. If he lied, he honestly could be responsible for my lynching. That is entirely a fucking thing. If this gets back to Mike there could literally be a plan to fucking murder/gang rape me. It may seem extreme but I sort of expect this from SOMEONE WHO BEAT ME, RAPED ME, BURNED ME WITH CIGARETTES, STALKED ME, DEFAMED ME AND THREATENED TO MURDER ME. This is not paranoia, this is so very fucking real. This is actually a thing. I need to be careful now. If Vince lies I will surely kill him. Or myself. 

I woke up insane. I feel like I am on drugs and I am stone cold sober. I’m literally tweaking out, I cannot drive. I am gone. I’m in another plane of existence entirely. This is not reality, this is madness. I am not here.  I need help.


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