they were drowning

i wanted to die

i wanted to die.

it was only way i could get him, get it all out of my head. i just needed everything to stop. and now, im here. sitting in a hospital bed in the icu 

im alive and there's nothing to do. so im left alone, with my thoughts.

i was raped. 

i didn't know that the boy that i trusted  would hurt me, see, i always thought rapists were old men who drove around in white vans, offering unsuspecting kids lollies and money. 

i was wrong. clearly. 

i didn't once think that the boy i was dating would keep going when i told him to slow down. but he did. 

I was wrong. Clearly.

I didn't know that rape affected victims so much. dr. fawn tells us that we're survivors. I don't feel like a survivor. 

I feel like a victim.

I told myself that would change, I put every drop of blood, every tear into winning my court case. 

But alas, he had a promising future and people would hate for one mistake to ruin his future, his career. 

Bullshit. 

He's a dick head and deserves to rot in jail. Some survivors tell me that I need to find something to motivate me, to get out of my head. But nothing motivated me enough. So here I am. Some survivors tell me that finding forgiveness healed them. Yeah, totally. Forgiveness is the last thing on my mind.

How could I forgive someone like that?

Not only was those few minutes the worst of my life, but ever since it happened, I changed. The things that used to make me snort with laughter. They weren't funny anymore. Nothing mattered.

 Nobody cared. It all felt like nothing. I could feel nothing. He took my virginity, my happiness, my will to live. I wish I was dead. I'm not dead. And I'm not alive either. I'm merely existing.

I don't remember much, about what I did. I have so many questions. But no one's answering them. I remember pulling out my fathers firearm. Its shiny surface gleamed in the sunlight shining through the window. 

Three. I reached for the trigger. 

Two. I shut my eyes. This was it. I would no longer be lost. 

One. 

'April!' 

The door burst open. My brother's eyes were wet with tears. 

Part of me wanted to put the gun down. But I couldn't live anymore. It was all too much. 

'You don't want to do this' 

noah cried, tears rolling down his cheeks. but i did, and here i am.

He pushed me to the ground, the bullet scraping the side of my head. He saved my life and I hate him for it. If it wasn't for him, I wouldn't be stuck in this hospital bed. In this stupid gown, eating food that tastes like cardboard and leaves my throat dry. I, like the taste of hospital food, felt nothing.

I feel nothing. Since my attempted suicide. I don't remember anything. I remember once feeling pain, but I don't remember pain itself. They put me on these pills. Medication. Sometimes, I feel happy. But its just the pills. Everything feels so, surreal. Like I'm dreaming. Half way between consciousness and unconsciousness. Maybe I would be happier, maybe I would be living my life normally, like the popular girls, even. 

if i had just hit him a little harder.

screamed a little louder.

dressed less sluttier

Maybe I wouldn't be here, in this room.

The other survivors, they tell me that they used to blame themselves, that they used to feel shame and guilt for what happened to them, but after counselling, everything changed for them.

And now they're happy. 

Some of them are older women now, with kids. One boy is now a star soccer player, as is another girl who stopped going to the survivor meetings a few weeks ago. I guess she doesn't need them anymore. There are a few girls around my age, but everyone else seems to have it all under control. 

I'm leaving the hospital tomorrow. 

according to the doctor i'm in stable condition. 

when i get back home, my brother will be there. my parents think of him and some kind of hero. for me, he's the opposite. 

i hate him and don't ever want to see him again.

thanks for getting this far. wow 

love u