Aftermath

     It's been many years since we've talked.  Since I've visited you or seen you or run into you.  I no longer know where you are or what you are doing.  I am relieved.
     Or, I thought I saw you recently at the hospital store.  I pretended I didn't know you.  I wrote you a letter once.  I said you were no longer alive to me.  What I wanted to say was "You are dead to me now."  I thought that phrase could be conceived of as a threat.  So I self-censored.  All pretense has been burned away.  You are dead to me now.
     Both of you. 

     I told you about the abuse.  I told you what was happening in my life.  I told you who was doing it and what they were doing.  You thought I was wanting attention.  How utterly convenient.
When you informed me several years later that you knew I was making it up, I was devastated.  I wasn't making it up.  I had witnesses.  Abuse doesn't happen in isolation.
     I told you about the abuse.  I told you what was happening in my life.  I told you who was doing it.  I hinted at what they were doing.  You said, "Oh, what a shame!  The two of you are such good friends."  Did you even hear yourself?  Later on, you were part of the grand cover-up.  You forgot.  Everyone else forgot too. 

     I was young and younger then.  I wanted you to rescue me.  I didn't know any better.  I was a child.  You were the responsible adult.  You should have acted upon what I told you.  Even if you didn't believe me, you should have done something.  Even if you thought I was lying.  Even if.   

     Those promises you made.  Worthless.  Your "friendship."  Bogus.  I am my own human being now.  You have nothing to do with who I've become.  I am stronger than anyone ought to have to be.  I would have been better off had I never met you.
Both of you.

sapphoq on life