I can pinpoint the exact day, hour, and minute my life went to shit.
It was a Friday at 2:28 am.
Last week I lost my job and had to move back home.
This week I went to a party.
Last week I took my little sister to the park for the day when the school was closed.
This week I decided to walk home, drunk, through the dark park.
Last week my mother told me, in quite the happy-go-lucky manner, that the house would be empty next Friday because they were going to some event.
This week I noticed a figure in the reflection of my phone just a few steps behind me when I took it out to check the time, it was 2:20.
Last week I woke up and thought to myself “I should socialize more”.
This week I thought I was safe at home.
Last week I thought about the time 8 years ago when my mother announced her pregnancy, how I was happy for her.
This week I stumbled to the fridge to get some juice to sober up a bit before going to bed.
Last week I bought a pair of big headphones to keep the crushing sound of anxiety out as much as possible. I wore them all the time.
This week I didn’t hear the bedroom door open.
Last week I decided to sleep in my mother’s bed while they were away since that big bed is better than mine.
This week I was startled when someone was standing in the kitchen at 2:25 am.
Last week I helped my sister with her homework, a family tree.
This week I tried to get up to my room to avoid the predatory look I was given. Drunk, nobody’s home, easy prey.
Last week my sister didn’t know where to write my name on the tree.
This week I was raped.
Last week I told my sister “Just write ‘step’ right there, and then put my name on the line”.