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Phoenix, Rising Through Hell

I won the war.

By Druw CameronPublished 6 years ago 15 min read
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I am writing you this letter, in an attempt to heal myself of the damage you have caused me. I am mailing you this letter as a sign of maturity from me. I am writing this letter to express the abuse and trauma you caused me, to remind you of the sins you chose to commit. I have not named you in this letter and I am coming directly to you, in a peaceful manner, but what I have to say, it will not be so peaceful.

Rumor has it that you have raped three girls. Two before we dated, and one afterward. Now, I know the two rapes before me went under investigation, and you were not found guilty of rape… But that does not mean you did not hurt those girls.

No charges were pressed against you, but that does mean that you are cleared of the sins you committed. The third victim—I knew something had gone wrong on the date you guys had, when the next day, she moved away from you in class. She didn’t reach out to me until a few months had passed, and I tried to convince her to report the rape to the police, but she didn’t want too.

That is what you might have done to them, but this IS what you did to me…

I had cut off my best friends for you, to protect you from the allegations of rape, that had surfaced after Ridgeview. I had told my best friends about our sexual encounters, and they knew it was wrong. The problem was that I was so brainwashed by you, by your narcissism and manipulation.

You made me feel guilty when I attempted to deny and delay any type of sexual involvement with you. Coercion was often your method of choice when you sexually assaulted me, but you did force some things too. We couldn’t even go see a movie without you wanting to make out and do something sexual.

I remember once, we went to see a movie and when I picked you up, you had assured me that we would actually watch the movie. That is not what happened. I remember you got frustrated when some people sat next to us in the top row, so you made us move to the next section over, so we could be alone… so you could grope me, so you could continue to pressure me, even after I told you to stop several times already. I even threatened to call your mother to come get you… and I should have done just that.

After we would see a movie, you would always want to sit in the car and want to grope me, like some animal. Why couldn’t you just be happy with me, without sexual any involvement? You would totally disregard my request to not be touched on my period. You would constantly tell me how you wanted “your big dick inside me.”

If I didn’t reply to a text message, phone call or facetime from you, you would blow up my phone with calls and messages until I answered. I remember that specifically happened once in Florida, when I was on vacation with my family and a friend. I had gone to the bathroom and in the three minutes or so that I was gone, you had called me about six times, and my parents were in shock of how clingy you were. On that same trip, you told me you had cut yourself, because I didn’t show you my face on Skype.

You called me a slut for wearing a tight shirt and skinny jeans. I got so mad and felt so disrespected by you, that I stormed into the bathroom and I was so angry with you. You gave me razor blades for me to cut myself, just so you could see my breasts. You literally disregarded my mental health for your own sexual desires.

What kind of person are you? You gave me things to hurt myself with, to feed the addiction that I had with cutting open my skin, just so you can see my breasts? I remember one time, we had an argument at school and I was trying to escape you, but you kept following me.

You wouldn’t leave me alone, to the point where my math teacher called me over and made me sit in her classroom, until you left and then she wrote me a note to class.

Another time, I had to text my friends to come escort me back to class from the girls' bathroom, because you were outside in the hallway, and wouldn’t leave me alone. When we would meet in the hallways during class, you would pin me against the wall and put your knee in between my legs, so that I couldn’t move or get away. A few times during our relationship, you called me a bitch.

My self-esteem dropped, my depression took a turn for the worst, my anxiety and co-dependency issues hit an all-time high. I started starving myself. I would drop from 115 pounds down to 105 pounds in about a week. My self-harm had also escalated from a coping skill, to an addiction, no thanks to you. I started to cut every week, and then multiple times a week, on my arms, legs, hips, wrists… I even cut up my stomach a few times.

Instead of helping me stop cutting myself, you would just tell me to clean it well, or ask to see the cuts. You even cut yourself a few times to guilt trip me or you would tell me that you were going to kill yourself, so I was scared to leave you.

You would tell me what to wear, so you could grope me before school. I even remember you would try to grope me when I was driving to school and once on a school field trip! I don’t understand why you didn’t leave me for some girl who would have sex with you all the time.

You knew I didn’t like it, we had several conversations about it. I used to tell you I didn’t want you to touch me, or I would tell you what you could and couldn’t do, but that wasn’t okay with you. No was never an option. I would even tell you I cut myself on my sides and that it hurt when you hugged me, so that I could avoid being touched by you.

You always spoke of integrity. You actually thought it was something you had. That makes me laugh, because you are the total, complete opposite of somebody with integrity. You do not have a strong moral code, and you were never honest. I still don’t know what parts of your past and family background are just more lies that you had told me.

Once, I tried to get you to break up and leave me, by telling you I was going to smoke weed, because if you broke up with me, then you probably wouldn’t come back. In the mornings before school, I would hide from you in the mornings to just get some space away from you. I would avoid you in the hallways and between classes because some days, you were too much for me to handle.

I never wanted any sexual encounters from you. I would try so hard sometimes to keep my legs squeezed together, but you always ripped them apart. I would try to pry your fingers off of my body, but you were determined to touch me however and wherever you wanted. You acted like groping me was something I wanted, but it was always really about you! You wanted the sexual encounters, not me, and that’s all you cared about.

Eventually, you told me that it was time to do something for you, because you had done stuff to me. You made me feel bad for trying to say no, you made me for guilty for not pleasuring you. I had tried to avoid it for a while and then one day I couldn’t stop it. You just put my hand down on you… That was probably my lowest moment with you. I was so disgusted with myself, but I wanted you to love me, I wanted you to stop making me feel guilty about things I should’ve never even considered to be my fault.

After my parents literally saved my mental state and my life by making us break up, you thought I was dating somebody new. You shared an art class with a friend, so you took his phone, texted me pretending to be him and asked me about the relationship you thought I had with this guy. You took my phone out of my hand, read our text messages and told me that I was flirting with him, which I wasn’t, but of course, you always thought you were right.

After that, you even went as far as to message him on Instagram and harass him about us “dating,” although we both told you we were not dating each other. You also told him that my sister and I were crazy, etc… so I wrote you up at school for harassment. I was not a human to you, I was an object that you owned. You thought that if I couldn’t be with you, I couldn’t be with anyone else.

You told my sister about me wanting to kill myself, November 5th, 2015, so everybody would see you as the hero and be eternally grateful to you. I hated you for that. You kept me alive, and I had to live with all the pain and trauma you had caused me. You have no idea how much hate and anger I have towards you still and words will never be enough to describe it.

You emotionally, verbally and sexually abused me. You used me, shamed me and manipulated me. You played the victim, when it was really me who was suffering because of you. I cared so much about you. I didn’t leave you, because I didn’t want you to go back to Ridgeview or start doing drugs again or kill yourself.

I was protecting the wrong person. I should’ve been protecting myself from the monster you really are. I was viewed as an object to you, something to play minds with, something to test your sexual desires on, something to break down into a small, helpless person, only reliant on you…

Looking back on it, I saw all the red flags, I felt the overwhelming presence of your toxic energy, and I put up with all the bullshit you brought to the table…

But I thought I could change you, I thought we could rescue each other. I was the depressed, self-harming, suicidal girl, and you were the depressed, anxious, abused boy. I thought that together, we could save each other from the insanity of society.

I thought love was what we had, but what we had was a toxic cycle of attention seeking behaviors, mental illnesses, and one-sided love. I loved you, and in return, you sought every opportunity to abuse me, assault me and violate me. I made you feel loved, get attention, and practice the art form of narcissism you were trying to perfect.

To you, I was just a body. I was just big boobs, a skinny waist, and a chaotic mind. I was something you could manipulate and something you could hurt. Yes, you hurt me. You abused me, and you have made me want to kill myself more times than I can recall.

You are the reason I bear scars on my arms, and trauma in my mind. I hope you enjoy the things you have left over from the torture you put me through. I hope at night you dream of me, I hope you think of my boobs and my body, and then I hope you know you will never ever lay on a hand on me again. So, enjoy your fading memories of me, because that’s all I will ever be to you.

I honestly cannot wrap my head around how you validate your actions. I don’t know how you sleep at night and how you think you have never done anything wrong. I don’t understand how you can view yourself as a victim, after doing the things I mentioned above, and I don’t even know everything you did to the other girls or how many other girls there are.

But I stayed… I stayed with you.

Yes, we took lots of “breaks” but only because I knew something was wrong about the relationship, I just couldn’t figure out what. I was exhausted from the control you sought constantly and the toxins from the relationship had me in some type of hallucination that you could be changed into something good, something healthy.

Know that you have left reminders of the abuse and sexual assaults for me. I have Post Traumatic Stress Disorder from you and maybe that makes you happy, because hurting me, I’m sure, gives you some amount of joy. I have nightmares about you, I have flashbacks about the things you had done to me and hear the things you had said to me.

I have somatic flashbacks, which cause me to relive the trauma of your touch all the time, at any point in the day. You have turned good days into bad ones, by simply popping into my head. You have sewed yourself a little spot in my mind but know that I am in control now. I am healing, I am alright.

All the pain, trauma, harm, and abuse you’ve caused has just made me a stronger woman. I want you to know that you did not destroy me, you are simply just a challenge I overcame, and you can no longer abuse me, use me, manipulate me. I have taken what you have done to me and used it to be a better person, and to be an advocate for victims of abuse and sexual assault.

You owe me so much more than an apology for the harm you have caused me. You owe me sleep, you owe me time, and you owe me the friendships I lost because of you. You owe me energy and happiness and respect. You owe me the parts of my heart I gave up for you. You owe me my body back, you owe me the truth, you owe me peace…

You put so much shit on me... the pressure was so much, that when I revealed myself through the shit, you were expecting a pile of dirt, but I was a diamond. Glimmering with glory and absolutely unbreakable...

I was a boat, looking for a lighthouse to guide me home. You showed me lightning and told me it was a light I could follow home. But then you turned into a storm and your waves drowned out the light altogether and I sunk, still looking for the light you had showed me to guide me home.

I thought you were my savior, but you were my poison. You were a python, squeezing around my throat, cutting off the oxygen of reality.

You are like a parasite. You are a rotting being in my soul, in my mind.

You are not broken, you are evil. You cause chaos and pain and you cannot be fixed. Karma will not skip or miss you, and justice will be served for the sins, the pain, the evil and the trauma you have caused, and when that happens, I will be watching. I will raise a glass to myself and know that I have defeated you.

I have won the game. I survived the abuse you caused and now I thrive. Biologists say that it takes seven years to replace every cell in the human body. In seven years, I will have a body that you have not touched.

I had been dancing with the Devil, but I was trying to convince myself that you could become an angel. You were dancing too, but you were trying to burn me into the ground. I might have burned, but I rose afterward, flames and all. The fire you tried to destroy me with is now the fuel I keep inside my soul to thrive, to destroy what you had brainwashed me into believing.

You may have cracked my canvas, but I grew flowers in the holes and called it art. I have learned to accept the scars caused by the razor blades you gave me. I have learned to love my body the way it is, even after gaining the weight I lost to be considered perfect in your eyes. I have accepted my body, even after it’s been touched by your Devilish hands, and I have learned to forgive myself for putting up with your torture, because I thought an abuser could also be a savior.

You will probably never admit to any of this abuse, and you will probably never apologize for the amount of damage, hurt, pain, abuse, and trauma you have caused me. You will probably never come to terms with the monster you are.

You are sick in the head, and you need help. You are a selfish excuse for a human being, and although I have accepted the fact that I will never get a real apology from you, I will continue to grow in spite of the abuse and I will continue to triumph past the pain you have caused.

I am not a victim. I am not a sad story. I am a victor, a survivor, a hero. I am an inspiration to myself and to others that they can overcome abuse. I am loveable, and I am worthy, and I am beautiful. I am not yours anymore, and you do not own me. You are my reminder that I can survive the worst of Hell and continue to grow through its flames.

I will grow.

You will wither.

And I will laugh at your demise.

humanity
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