Remember when I told you that I had been raped?
I was crying and I needed you to comfort me. I needed you to tell me that it wasn’t my fault – that it was never my fault. I asked you why these things keep happening to me, and you responded by sliding your hands beneath my dress. I cried harder and yet you still tried to have s** with me. Why would you do that? To this day I cannot understand why you thought that was an appropriate thing to do. You didn’t listen to me when I refused. You yelled at me, made me feel guilty for not wanting you. You told me that it was my fault – I was the one in the wrong. You called me crazy, that I was fucked in the head, that I was the one who had problems. And I believed you. I trusted you to help me. I told you that I had been raped, and you responded by r***** me again. I hate you for ruining me. I hate myself for still loving you.