I open my eyes and all I can see is an old faded couch that I’m lying on. I’m in a basement but I’m not sure who’s basement I’m in. I see the bookshelf of movies and an old guitar. I realize now I’m in his basement. I look around again to see if I’m alone but I’m not. He’s here. But it’s as though he’s out of focus, like an old camera. I blink and suddenly he’s on top of me. Kissing me, touching me as though we were lovers. But we are not, because I told him no over and over, but it’s like his ears can no longer hear my words.

“Shhh. It’s okay. I know you want to”

But I don’t and I say no, but he doesn’t stop. His hand slips up my shirt and under my bra. I try with all my might to push his hands away, but it’s like my hands are made of cement and I can’t stop him. I blink and now my shirt and bra are off and on the ground. I stare at my shirt, trying to figure out what shade of blue it is. I decide it’s the color of a blueberry after it has been crushed. I look over and he’s taking his shirt off. I try again to push him off me, but he’s so strong and the alcohol is weighing me down like a bag of bricks. I can smell him and I want to throw up, but all I can do is gag. That smell I will never forget. Like laundry detergent and cigarettes.

“Come on, Marissa, there’s no reason to fight me. I’ll go gentle I promise.”

I don’t believe him. I keep trying to say no over and over but I can’t seem to get my mouth to work because no matter how hard I try, no sound will come out. I blink and he’s trying to unbuckle my pants. I’m so scared now, because I know he’s not going to stop. I try one more time to get him off me, so I swing at him, but he catches my arm. He didn’t like that, so he hits me.

“Things were going so great, why did you have to ruin it?”

But things were not going so great. I stop fighting because I know it’s over now. The tears roll down my face. I’m looking up at the ceiling now and imagine I’m someplace else and not here. I imagine I am not helpless but I am. And as I lie here, I wish I was dead.

Thrust. Thrust. Thrust.

Two minutes now seem like forever. I’m not sure he will ever stop. But he does. He fades into focus again. Covered in sweat and tears. I silently beg for it to be over. He kisses me again. Tells me how great it was, how beautiful I am. It’s all lies though. Because now I am ugly and empty.

Wake up, Marissa. Wake up.

I open my eyes. Turn over. It was just another nightmare. He’s not here and you are not there. It’s over. But it’s not, not really anyways. It’s been one year, ten months and 12 days since that night. That night I died inside. That night he killed me, the person I used to be. But now every night is the same thing. And each day, I wake up, I wonder,

When will this nightmare end and I start living again?