I saw a man today. A man who took advantage of me when I was 18. He’s my older sister’s, older friend. A man she used to date. A man who knows my mother personally. A man who helped my father when he was roughed up on the street one day.
I stopped thinking of him a long time ago. My life went on. Ive met people who have made me happy. Im intelligent, Im beautiful, Im compassionate, and warm.
He couldn’t take any of my future from me. I still have me… is what I told myself.
He has a child now. A little girl. I don’t know how old she is or what she looks like. Recently, he visited my home and had a chat with my mother. From my bedroom, I wondered about the little girl born from a man like him. I wondered if he ever stopped to wonder about the man he is. Has he considered his baby girl meeting a man with the same ambition as him, coming after his daughter so deliberately, with lust so rampant in his veins for his girl that he did not care what it meant to obtain her. Would he think that his little girl would be taken twice?
It feels like such a long time ago. I don’t think about it, not really. I still have me, is what I tell myself. I believe it, mostly. The moment I was taken advantage of, thats his, a part of my life that I had no control of, I don’t own it. I’m me, but that time is his. He got what he wanted after all.