“Those little girl’s eyes are not dead. They just
need to be reminded that there’s a life worth living.”
It was odd seeing my body beneath me. Like it was nothing more than a bad dream. A nightmare. I floated there, tethered to myself like a dog on a chain. I could see every excruciating detail of what he was doing to me, and I thought briefly I might’ve been dead. In some ways, I hoped I was. Especially when my dead eyes kept looking up at me.
But I’ve come to realize those little girl’s eyes are not dead. They just need to be reminded that there’s a life worth living.
Living with years of abuse changes every bit of who you are, and who you will become. If you know a victim and you see the light fade from their eyes, know that even though they are awake, they aren’t present any longer.
© Sarah Doughty