By Sara Forcella, See the Triumph Contributor
She’s in disbelief.
She looks into the mirror, face sunken and smeared with mascara and blames herself.
Why did she wear that outfit?
Why did she hand you her drink?
Why did she trust you?
She lies up at night and blames herself.
Why did she hand you her glass of pink rose?
Why why did she chose those jeans, the pair with the rip above the knee?
Why did she take the seat next to you on the first day of class?
She sits through class and blames herself.
Why did she willingly hand you her glass of pink rose for 45 seconds?
Why did she chose that shirt, the one that brings out her eyes?
Why did she hang out with you the entire first semester and call you her best friend?
She slinks down at the dining hall table and blames herself.
Why did she trust you enough to think it was okay to give you her glass of pink rose for 45 seconds while she when to the restroom?
Why did she try to show off her curves on a night where she was finally feeling confident in her own skin?
Why did she ever let her guard down and trust a man knowing well-and-good he was sure to let her down just like her father had so many times before.
She sits on her bed and finally starts to forgive herself.
Why did he purposefully tell me to drink up?
Why did he maliciously slip a pill into my glass of pink rose, when holding it for only 45 seconds?
Why did he chose to target me that night?
Why did he decide to shatter my trust and rape me?
She looks in the mirror for the first time in a long time and doesn’t have the urge to punch her own reflection.
For the first time she knows she is not to blame.
She’s a survivor.
He is a rapist.
That is the way it will always remain.
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