Day 1: rape, torn cunt, smelly cum and blood soaked tampon stuck up inside said torn cunt, doctor pulled it out, Kimmi and Eldina dragged me to the hospital. Rape kit tests at Rigshospitalet.
Day 2: no sleep, shaking hands, felt completely empty inside. Kimmi and Eldina came over. Didn’t want me to be alone. Dinner at Malou’s place. Had such a lovely evening. Felt good. Until I was alone for a moment and saw my own reflection in the mirror. Hands started shaking again. Drank too much alcohol. Didn’t want to focus on yesterday. Someone called. Didn’t recognise the # and picked up. It was the guy who had raped me. Forgot I had deleted his #.
I woke up at 4am. Two hours of sleep. At first I just lied there on my bed, staring up at the ceiling for no reason. After awhile I got up and sat at my windowsill, reading The Myth of Sisyphus by Albert Camus.
Sisyphus, a figure of Greek mythology was condemned to ceaselessly rolling up a rock to the top of a mountain by the gods, just to watch it motherfucking roll downhill once it reached the top. Haha. Fuck. Futile and hopeless labour. What a fucking dreadful punishment. You know, just like wishing for better times, when you ought to know better.
Meanwhile some whores down the street were fighting over a costumer. I believe I heard one of them shout “EY MAN, DON’T MESS WITH MAH WIG”. For a second I laughed over how absurd it was, that I sat at my windowsill, reading and wishing for death while some whores were screaming and shouting at each other in the background.
I had been awake for hours and hours. Yet I couldn’t make myself leave my room and the windowsill until I had to leave for my doctor’s appointment. I can’t explain why, but something about having to go out, being surrounded by so many people makes me uncomfortable. Once I’m outside, it usually get’s okay after a while. But mustering the courage to go out is a completely different matter.
I felt like a complete moron at the doctor’s office. It seemed pointless. I left thinking “wtf am I even doing here”. I biked home to Mads afterwards to get the necklace I had forgotten at his place some days earlier. We talked for a while. He wanted to kiss, but I kept turning my head away. Eventually I closed my eyes and gave in. I didn’t felt like going further, but at the same time I wanted to prove to myself that I could do it, you know? So I spat on his dick and jerked him off with both hands. He came. I licked his cum off the palm of my right hand while maintaining eye contact. He stepped closer to give me a hug. I backed away until I felt the front door against my back. I looked at him. He looked back. I didn’t know what to say, so I left.
I felt so fucking sick when I got home. I could still taste his cum on my lips. My hands were shaking, my mind completely out of control. I didn’t want to do it, yet I did it to fucking prove to myself that I’m normal, that I’m fully capable to do something as fucking simple as jerking off a fucking guy without panicking or freaking out over being in such close contact with someone else. Well, fuck. I stumbled over to the kitchen and threw up in the sink.
Things don’t feel quite real for the moment. I dunno. It’s difficult to explain. Sure, I know what’s going around me is all real, but it feels so blurry, you know? As if there’s a filter between the world and me. It’s like I’m on auto pilot mode nowadays. I’ll smile, nod and all, but.. It’s like I’m not even fucking here.