The Reflection Of The Worst Experience Of My Life

I remember it as clearly as the night it happened, time travels fast when you reminisce about the worst experience of your life. Even though it was four years ago, the fragment of the worst memory in my mind feels as raw and vivid as it did that cold November night. It all happened so fast I almost didn’t feel anything; little did I know that this was just foreshadowing what my life was going to be after getting raped. As I laid there, after having just experienced what most guys joke about, but are immensely terrified of when mentioning prison, I realized my life was over. Nothing was ever going to be the same for me, I was not a girl anymore. In the ten longest minutes of my life, I was fucked until I became a woman. It is very simple, …show more content…
Of course the hamartia to this idea was this: nobody knew when their time was going to be up, and they believed they had an eternity to write these memoirs. This is probably why my dad did not leave me many of those. I used to go to his office all the time before he passed and just eavesdrop conversations with his patients. Which probably explains my fascination with experiences and the way that they shape people’s stories. My dad, the only psychiatrist in town, was a very wise man that died before he turned 59 due to a cancer that metastasized in his blood. Only a year before my catastrophe, my dad died in his hospital bed while I was reciting some of my poetry for him. But I wasn’t as heartbroken as my mother, Lalie Eliot, who essentially gave up her entire life after she married my father. So when he died, her soul ascended to heaven with him. “My life ended the moment your father’s heart stopped beating,” she muttered as a tear came down her soft, pale skin and rested on her jaw before eventually falling on her nightgown. Every time I saw even the smallest tear running down my mother’s face I felt as if though my heart was being dipped in sulfuric acid, and each blister was sprayed with vinegar. While I had always been “Daddy’s girl,” I loved my mother like Pip loves Estella in Great Expectations: …show more content…
I wore a black dress with long, laced sleeves, black tights, and the shortest heels I could find in my mother’s closet (fair to mention these were black as well). I was very pale, and in order to contrast, I dyed my originally blonde hair to an ashy maroon. I also remember my hair was in a bun since I had just gotten that tattoo on the back of my neck, it was a dandelion that was being blown by the winds while its florets became birds as they flew farther from the head, and even the thought of my hair on it