Mistrust.

Daily Prompt: Share the story of a time you felt unsafe.

While the prompt sounds like something a psychiatrist would say, it got me thinking If anything in my life had made me feel unsafe.

I am girl( that must have been half-way obvious) and I am from India, a country with too many people to track my anon blog to anyway.

Needless to say, I have felt unsafe a lot of times. In fact, every time I am out on the road alone, a part of me is a guard dog with its hackles risen to protect me from potential gropers and rapists.

I have grown up in a situation where, every single girl has been taught to not make eye-contact with strangers, to scan the crowds for potential threats and on any given time be prepared to be assaulted by strangers who strip you with their eyes from across the street.

This is not uncommon, and perhaps everyone can relate with me till this point. From here on wards though, I am taking the risk of being really, truly honest. I tread waters here, that could at the least shatter the illusion of me having any semblance of sense in my head.

A girl is meant to feel unsafe with strangers, but what about with people you know?

What about with your boyfriend?

I was in a hurry to date, after the onset of puberty (thank you disney and cellphones.) So I did, I began to ‘date’ ( or whatever is dating to a 14 year old with limited permission to leave the house) my neighbor, a boy who was around 15 back then.

We were close, and we were going to get (don’t laugh) married, till I turned 16. In truth my so called relationship was a train-wreck, (we fought, a lot. He asked me to kill myself, a lot) so I grew a pair, and asked him to fuck off.

He has, ever since, tried to contact me, again and again, swearing he has cleaned up his act (have you ever met a 16 year old who was addicted to heroin? I dated one, not a pleasant experience, he coughed up blood a lot)

He just wants us to be friends. (Doesn’t mean anything by it, he just regrets it and has some need to make up for all that misery he gave me, I think) Anyway, He doesn’t stop texting, and I refuse to ever reply, for a simple reason I cannot explain to him without hurting everyone’s feelings. I don’t have a single male friend in this country.

Do I think everyone is a rapist? No! But, at the same time, I cannot shake the underlying suspicion I feel every time I see a boy my age trying to talk to me.

I vividly remember, once I had, during the course of our ‘relationship’ gone to his house.We were alone, and albeit terrified, I had blind faith on the guy. (stupid I know)

Everything was fine and good, till one of his friends began to hammer on his door, and he asked me to step inside his bathroom while ‘he dealt with it.’

I could hear them talking, and for a moment the friend tried to come inside ‘to meet your girlfriend’ and I could swear I was going to get raped, killed and stuffed into a bag.

My finger was on the dialer with my mother’s number, and I was searching for possible exits. I was looking for a way to escape my own boyfriend.

Everything turned out okay though, he shooed the guy away and gave me a hug, and I sped all the way back to my house; attributing my beating heart to nervous excitement.

I had forgotten about this experience, and only today did it resurface. I finally figured out why I avoid talking to anybody at all.

Only today, did I realize that somewhere inside, I have mistrust for him, and all of his kind etched in indelible ink.

How can I love a man I cannot trust?

My fear was not totally unfounded though. Last year, a sixteen year old I knew was raped by her boyfriend and two of his friends when she went to meet him at his house.

 

That escalated quickly.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Advertisements

2 thoughts on “Mistrust.

  1. Thank you for your honesty. It is heart breaking to read those words and realize all its implications. You are strong and I hope you know your worth will never be defined by anyone other than yourself.

    Like

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s