Whisper in the Wind

Tears begin to well, drowning my dark brown eyes, sliding down my cheek, and hitting my hand with damp warmth. My breath speeds up, and my cries turn to up heaving sobs, as I stare at Aiden’s empty words. Each line is filled with them, meaningless, pathetic attempts at letting me down easy, but they don’t work. I can feel my heart cracking, breaking into a million little pieces, this very second, right before my eyes. How could some one who seems so sweet, have this built up abundance, just waiting to hurt me? All Aiden ever does is play this stupid repetitive game with me. He implies that he wants me, tells me how great he would be to me, how fantastic we would be together; then BAM! like a truck he side swipes me. Tearing my world apart, letting me know that all I am is a part of his game.

Next part of my memoir.

So I walked out into the water with the rest, fully clothed, just to get away, but he followed. We found some frogs looking helpless in the water, as the salmon nipped at their tiny legs. I made a raft for them out of bark and leaves, and scrambled to get them all on it. They sat on the raft for a while, confused, and unsure where to go. To be honest, I felt the exact same way at the time.

One by one my cousins and brothers disappeared, once again leaving me alone with Dylan. My heart threw itself into over drive and began fluttering beyond my control. I tried to take long deep breaths, but nothing worked. My eyes kept darting looking for an escape, a wanderer, anything to save me from what was about to happen.

“Do you want to head back Marissa?”

More than anything, but not alone with you! Why did I believe even for a split second that by saying yes, he might take me straight back to camp, no funny business?

“Yeah, let’s go.”

We got no further than the bushy area and Dylan was already starting in again.

“So do the drapes match the carpet?”

“Excuse me?”

I’d never had anyone ask me that before, I wasn’t even entirely sure what it meant. But once he pulled out my pants and my underwear and said, “Yup they sure do,” I got a good idea of what he meant. It still grossed me out that he would even ask such a thing. What kind of sick pervert asks there cousin, sorry third cousin, those sort of questions?

When we returned everyone acted as though everything was normal, I’ll never get how they didn’t see that I needed help. How they didn’t get that something was wrong, why they never thought to ask if I was hiding something from them. They just stared, smiled and carried on with their conversations as per usual. Unaware that my life would never be the same, or that maybe one of them could have helped prevent what was about to come next. The easiest way I could explain it all to myself was that Dylan really was a good guy deep down. He was so nice most of the time, but when ever he got “Excited,” he turned on me. That’s when he touched me, and became enraged, I was terrified of him. No way would I have dared to turn against him.