I Just Want To Close My Eyes

I remember. I remember hurt. I remember pain. I remember not seeing anything. I remember not hearing anything. I remember his hand on my shoulder. I remember he was wearing sweatpants. I remember him begging. I remember tears. I remember blood. I remember him pushing me off of him when he was done with me. I remember shame. I remember guilt for not screaming or fighting back. I remember his voice; it was like nails on a chalkboard; an angry lion growling. I remember wanting to die that night. I remember crying myself to sleep. I remember the nightmares. I remember almost killing myself that night. I remember hating men. I remember hives. I remember hating the world. I remember dying. I remember the hospital. I remember the questions "who,". "When" "where," the question I hate most is "how?" I hated sharing the details to complete strangers. The details of how I had my soul taken from me. I remember the detectives, the police. I remember watching as the detective took pictures of the " crime scene." I remember being afraid that I was going to see his face again. I remember hating everyone for not believing me. I remember high focus centers. I remember talking about it and crying hysterically as I did. These are the things I remember, and these are the things I can never forget. This is my story.