Confession of a Victim

 

 

 

 Confession of a Victim

By: Katerina R

 

“When I was eight, I used to play at home unattended. I took delight in pretending as a woman in her mid-twenties. Even at a very young age, I wanted to become someone who can live her life the way she wanted to. A strong-willed, brave individual was all I aspired to be. 

 

But I grew up quite differently. I became meek, aloof, and most of the time, isolated. As I reminisce the child I once was, a sudden pang of abhorrence and disgust ensued from within. 

 

When I was eight, my dreams eventually turned into corpse and my childhood was buried alongside. 

 

When I was eight, I witnessed that the world has indeed its own cruel ways on how to take something precious from you. And it certainly took mine.

 

When I was eight, I began to feel conscious of what I wear.

When I was eight, I avoided men and garnered a strong sense of hatred towards them.

 

All these because when I was eight, two men confined me within the walls of their depravity.

 

And now that I’m 21, people, around my age or older, think catcalling and sexual assaults happen because of how we, women, dress. 

 

They think we shouldn’t wear provocative clothes to evade circumstances such as being aggravated or worse, raped.

We are so engrossed on educating every one of the exact amount of fabric a woman should use to cover her body yet we failed to discern far graver things.

 

We live in a society where telling them to get hold of their sexual needs is against the law of nature. I mean, come on? Shouldn’t a man admit his sexual desires to a woman even if it’s against her will? Because it’s either the man is just being a man or the woman revealed too much of her skin.

 

And perhaps it was my fault. It was my fault that I got sexually abused at the age of eight because the perpetrators were too distracted by my enticing underdeveloped body to even think rationally.

Sorry, my fault.”