Refusing to Drown

CW // SA

& there is a girl on the floor of the shower crying. There is the water that washes her tears. There is me watching the girl, calling out to her. But she only answers to my name. & I don’t know what to say next so I leave the bathroom with her crying on the floor of the shower. I stay on the tile under the deluge of water. There is a me that is always crying. There is a me that always leaves.

There is an us struggling to make sense of what happened.

There is a body that is supposed to be mine but has become a warzone.
I am no longer nomansland but a place where somemenwilloccupybyanymeansnecessary.

It’s no wonder I broke.

My masseuse says I’ve beaten myself up.
My masseuse says I’ve been beaten up.
I’m carrying rocks everywhere. I’m carrying memories.
I’m still prostrate in the shower
attempting to withstand the trauma of violation.
I’m still running away from the doctor’s hands.
The pastor’s words.
The coach’s conditions.
The lies from friends.
The nice guy who wasn’t actually nice.
& all the other monsters my silence envelops.

She says it’s not my fault. She says it’s not my fault. She says it’s not my fault.
& by the third time I believe her.
& by the third time I think maybe this body can understand more than violence.
I think maybe I will try.
I think maybe this is trying right now– letting her hands touch me where it hurt
mending us back together.

There is a version of me where I turn back to the girl in the shower & hold her.
There is a version of me that wants to bury her.
There is a me that never forgets our body is in the bathroom
drenched in water
refusing to drown.