You wouldn’t care.
I started drinking at a bar because my life wasn’t the life that I’m happy with, but you didn’t know though you wouldn’t care. I only had 2 drinks because I heard my therapist voice in my head saying, “if you keep drinking, you’ll make it worse” so I decide to stop.
All I wanted to do was to have a drink and go back to my Hostel room and sleep, for I had a long flight the next day to go home.
Young girl, all by herself on one side of the world while all of her loved ones are on the other side, thousands of kilometres away. She… I was scared, but you didn’t know though you wouldn’t care.
3 am is when I awoke to go to the bathroom. Ever since that night, I keep waking up at 3 am in my own bed because I think you’ll attack me.
I walked past you, not thinking anything about it. You didn’t give me a bad vibe, at that point you were a normal guy walking back to his room. I noticed you weren’t that much older than me… Maybe the same age?
I smiled, being polite but now that I think about it maybe you thought that was an invite? All these question’s which will remain answered forever.
I didn’t even realize you turned around to follow me. I heard footsteps =, my anxiety creeping up in a rapid pace but you didn’t know though you wouldn’t care.
I walked faster, you did the same. Not even having to look back to know that I was in danger. I’m in front of the bathroom door now, that’s when I felt pressure on my back causing me to fall down and a heavy weight climbing on top of me.
I didn’t scream, nor cry but you wouldn’t care. But as soon as I felt your cold hands trying to unbutton my shirt I yelled, that when you got nervous but this time I didn’t care.
I felt a cold metal pressed against my face and witnessing a small but deadly blade. I kept quiet. I sobbed. I fought for a little but as soon as I felt you entered me, I knew right then that I had lost.
I stopped fighting. I just laid there in pain and agony. Wanting to die because I knew at that point that my life would never be the same again… You didn’t know… You wouldn’t care. You finished, cleaning yourself up while I lay in my own blood. Wanting to die.
I went home on a long flight with pain still with me, mentally and physically. Because of what happened at 3 am on a Saturday night, my mental wellbeing is nonexistence.
Depression is more suicidal, Anxiety has caused panic attacks every day. I can’t trust any man, and telling my family what had happened to me makes me want to die even more.
I hope your 7 minutes and 42 seconds was worth it, because for me it’s not 7 minutes and 42 seconds, it’s a lifetime. But you don’t know, though you wouldn’t care.