Beyond my control

    “Don’t fall asleep…don’t fall asleep,” I wearily reminded myself as I laid stiff on the bed I shared with my little brother. I continued to fight to stay awake as tears streamed down the face of my seemingly lifeless body. I could not let what happened to me happen to him; not now. The pain my body forcefully endured moments before in the bathroom was not the first time it happened and it would certainly not be the last.

    Despite my desire to protect him, the day came the day that has produced much of the burden and regret I carry, a day that years later would be built upon and released in woeful disaster. It is the day my brother assimilated my pain.

    We were sitting in the small bedroom we share. Content in playing with our Hot Wheels, my brother and I began singing a silly song about a worm named Herman, a song taught to us by our older siblings. As we argued about the order of the verses, the shiny gold knob rattled and slowly turned. Fearing we were being too loud and that our toys would be taken away again, I immediately rescued the blue and red Hot Wheels and pushed them underneath the dresser. The man stepped into the room still in his uniform. Recognizing his badge as light reflected from it, my body instantly tensed.

    It was that very star that my glossy eyes are glued to each time I was taken to the bathroom. I never told my brother what really happens to me, nor did I cry when I was being carried out of the room. Having been separated from our older siblings, I was his shield of armor. He was young and naïve, trusting that I was simply getting a tour of the rest of the house which he had yet to see.

    However, this time was different. Before I was lifted onto the man’s shoulders, I began bawling. My fragile body was still sore and aching from the previous visit to the bathroom. It was a selfish feeling that provoked me into saying the words that years later would haunt my dreams.

    “Not me! Not me! It’s his turn!”  -I tearfully watched my brother being carried out of the room. I was merely seven years old in foster care with my youngest brother, who was only six. The man was our foster father. At that moment, I made a solemn vow to protect my brother. If given the choice, I would be the one.

    Later, my brother and I moved to a different foster home. As time progressed, I locked away those horrid memories in the back of my mind, foolishly thinking that I had disposed of the key that would unlock them. My brother and I were eventually adopted and lived life fearlessly. However, my carefree spirit was interrupted during my sophomore year. At 16, my nightmare returned.

    At 16, I knew very clearly right from wrong. What this guy was intending I knew it was wrong, very wrong. He was a fellow student from a school I previously attended, a senior, and much bigger than me. He was carrying equipment from his gym class to the back room, located in a dark, vacant hallway. He dropped a few items and my hands were free, so I offered my help. As we carried the last load of equipment to the back room, I placed the items on the ground, only to realize when I rose that I was being strongly pinned against the cold, brick wall. I began to scream for help as he shoved himself against me and kissed my body. I could not comprehend why this was happening. I did not even know the guy. I was just trying to help him! My legs went numb as though they are paralyzed, and tears unbearably poured down my face. At this point, my wrists primarily felt the pain as his grip got tighter and more firm. Suddenly, it hit me; no one was coming, not a single person! I was screaming and yelling at the top of my lungs, or so I thought. In reality, I was crying and mouthing the words “Help Me,” but not a single sound was produced. I was silently screaming.

    He moved, shifting his weight, allowing my right leg to be free. I kneed him in the groin and swiftly attempt to escape. Just when I thought I was free, my ankles were hastily swept from beneath me, and I fell hard onto the tile floor. I desperately stretched my arms in hope of grabbing onto the doorway as I was being pulled further from it. At that time, the school bell rang. Knowing students would fill the nearby locker rooms, he let go and vanished, leaving me trembling on the floor. I soon found myself in the bathroom vomiting, confused and miserable. I spoke of this to no one. I did not think that anyone would believe me and no sexual intercourse took place. I convinced myself that it was not a big deal.

    It was not until my junior year that these incidents were brought out into the open. In  between that time period, many chaotic events occurred. I was residing with some family members here in Annandale. Over the winter break, I went back to visit friends and family. Soon afterwards, I learned that the guy who had pinned me against the wall was arrested for raping a 12 years old girl. Completely taken back to that moment and shaken up, I was overwhelmed with guilt. Had I reported that incident, would that innocent child have been left unharmed? I soon began to feel sick to my stomach as the long stored away memories of foster care became unlocked. I began to be consumed with guilt and regret as the horrible memories and images that I had kept secret constantly soared through my mind. I was already depressed by all the detrimental behaviors and actions of my family which I had endured in recent months, so these unspoken truths finally surfacing were the icing on the cake. I made a decision, the ultimate white flag of surrender: I tried to kill myself.

    Thankfully, I am alive today. I spent about a month in the hospital recuperating, opening up and finding myself.  Once I masked my hurt with a smile, but I now choose to be happy because that is how I truly feel. I am continually working to be healthy mentally, physically, emotionally, and spiritually. I have learned that the actions I suffered were, in fact, not my fault, that I am not guilty of anything. I learned that as extremely difficult and scary as it may be, you need to speak up if what is being done to you is inappropriate. You deserve the opportunity to live without fear. Do not bottle it up inside because despite what you think, someone will believe you and help you.