Part III

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

It was over. My mind was racing and I was full of emotions: happy that he was gone; angry about what he did; relieved that I was still alive; sad that I let it happen; scared that he would come back. What do I do now?

First thing was first: lock the door. After he left, I ran to the door and switched the lock in place. I went to the front door that was never used and made sure that one was locked as well. I looked at the clock in the kitchen. It was mid morning; right around the same time that my class would have been released, which also meant that I was to head to work.

Part II

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

We have all imagined scenarios in our heads and thought about how we would handle them. What if a robber was running towards me on the sidewalk clutching another woman’s bag? I would stick my leg out and trip that sucker before he got away. What if I witnessed a car accident on the highway that ended with it catching fire? I would stop and offer to help. Maybe pull the driver from the burning wreckage… But believe me when I say: what you think you would do and what you actually do can be very different.

Part I

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

I know what you’re thinking: “How does it get any worse?” I had mentioned in another post that I endured being blackmailed into having sexual encounters with The Recluse because I knew that it wouldn’t last; once he had his way with me, I would be back in the arms of the one person I truly loved. How messed up is that!?

Start Over…?

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

If you haven’t guessed by now, this is the point in my life when things greyed (as mentioned in my Intro). I had been repeatedly raped, blackmailed, and my boyfriend, the love of my life, had just left me after finding out. I was alone. I was depressed. I was suicidal. And all for what? Something terrible happened to ME, and as a result, the one person in this world that I cared for the most turned his back on me, and considered himself the victim. The worst part: I believed I deserved it.

The only good thing that came out of that fateful night was that The Recluse had disappeared: no texts, no calls, no random appearances. He was gone.

Is It True!?

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

What if he’s bluffing? He wouldn’t tell people. He’s just mad that I’m not his slave anymore; that I’ve finally stood up for myself.

Boyfriend had showed up just like he did hundreds of nights before. It was approaching dinner time. Mom was in the kitchen making dinner, Dad was in the family room on his laptop, and Boyfriend and I were in the living room watching tv. For a fleeting moment, my life was normal. This was how many evenings were spent in our household. That was until he showed up…

This Is It. No More.

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

Boyfriend is back. All is right with the world. He said he would leave me alone. He said he wouldn’t tell. He said…

“YOU THOUGHT WE WERE DONE, DIDN’T YOU? I LIED. COME SEE ME.”

I can’t. I won’t. Boyfriend will find out. “No.” Was all I responded with.

“DON’T MAKE THIS HARDER ON YOURSELF THAN IT HAS TO BE. YOU DON’T WANT TO WAKE MY DEAMONS, DO YOU? YOU HAVEN’T SEEN ANYTHING YET. ”

Not Again. Not Ever.

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

So I have a secret. Who doesn’t? Well… not many people have quite the unsettling secret that I have. Should I tell someone? Should I risk everything in the hopes that everyone believes me over him? As long as I stay away from him, I will be fine. He can’t hurt me anymore. What if I do tell and they believe him? Everyone will hate me. Everyone will blame me. They will think I’m a slut. Boyfriend will breakup with me and life as I know it will end. I don’t want him to leave me. I love him.

You Came On to Me

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

Often times, when I was working on assignments at Boyfriend’s, The Recluse would come over to visit. At first, I welcomed the distraction from school work. We would spend some time shooting the breeze until I felt my second wind coming, in which time I would politely excuse myself back to my work, and

Mrs. Saintly and The Recluse

I’m writing out my life in a timeline, so to experience my story the way its supposed to be told, start at I Was That Girl In School… then proceed chronologically by post date.

I went to school. I went to work. I hung out with Boyfriend. This became my routine once I started college. I did not have the ‘typical’ college experience had by most. Being the old fashioned people my parents were, if I wanted something, I had to work for it, and college was no different. So instead of