For Once, Somebody Believes Me

Nobody will believe you, he told me. It's all your fault, he said. And he was right. Why would anybody believe me? I was the one who was dressed like a slut, after all. I was the one that was drunk, after all. It's just like he said. It was all my fault. I can't tell anybody. They won't believe me. They'll never believe me. I can still hear those words in my head, feel the heat of his breath in my ear. And I can still feel those bastard's hands on me. I wasn't that drunk. I still remember everything. Nobody will believe you. He said those words with his own very mouth. But...would they? Would they believe that I didn't want it? Would they believe that I said no? I screw up every ounce of courage, every fiber of bravery that I can. I remember being helpless that night. I'm not helpless anymore. Light comes in the form of the school's counselor's office. I open the door, and there's the light. Keep being brave, I tell myself. Be brave for all the times you couldn't be brave before. The counselor is there. She looks confused, concerned. I feel confused and concerned myself. I sit in the chair, and without even introducing myself, begin to tell her everything. I don't break down, and I don't care. The words that needed to be said simply spill out. And as I talk, I know I can do this. Because she believes me. She doesn't think it's my fault. From the look on her face, I know for a face, that somebody believes me.