Picking At Old Wounds

Alison Sparks
2 min readJul 15, 2023
Photo by lil artsy from Pexels.

TW: rape, flashbacks, PTSD

I should be happy… Right? Only a week or two and my rapist will finally be questioned. Things are moving slow. Way too slow. It’s been almost a year since the rape itself until we got here. But we did. So… Now what?

Not a day goes by when I don’t think he doesn’t deserve to be brought to justice. Not a day in my life I’ve felt sorry for him. But I know that this questioning will pick the scabs off of my old wounds, and it will hurt again. It’s been close to a year. I thought I healed. I really did.

Yet, a part of me wonders why I went to the police in the first place. It wasn’t that bad, was it? He didn’t hold a knife to my neck, he didn’t rip out my hair or choke me until I couldn’t breathe… But I still remember how I said no countless times, and he just turned me over and entered my ass like it belonged to him. Like he owned the right because he had already claimed every other hole of me. I don’t remember if it hurt. Maybe it did. When he entered me, I kind of just gave up. Like a defeated animal, I played dead. Was I supposed to fight back? I still don’t know.

There’s another memory in my head — more triggering than the first one. Me, lying on the bed with my head hanging down the edge of it. Him, thrusting in my mouth until I couldn’t breathe. I thought I would throw up. I wanted him to stop. At least to slow down. But I couldn’t. Not that he would have cared anyway. I moved my head away several times just to catch a breath, but he kept pushing his dick down my throat. It was rough. It was scary. More scary than being pushed down and consensually fucked in the ass.

He scares me till this day. The idea of seeing his face makes me freeze up and shut down. But if I want to see this through, I know that I’ll have to face him and repeat what he did to me. There is no way back. But now I get why so many rape victims choose to stay silent, to not press charges. It’s like the slow speed of the justice makes you rip apart the same wounds you just finished healing, and it’s just not fair. We don’t deserve this. Yet we have to make ourselves bleed at the chance of our abuser being punished for his sins. May the strongest one win.

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Alison Sparks

Just a writer, sharing my musings on sex, sexuality, sex work, mental health and LGBTQ+ topics.